Winner Takes All
by blackwolfmajik
Summary: Abraham finds that he's not the only one trapped in a vicious circle of love. Abbie thinks they could find a way out together, but is it all just a ploy by the Horsemen to achieve their End Game? Primarily Brambie, with hints of Ichabbie
1. Chapter 1

**Winner Takes All**

_Spoilers up through Season 2 finale, ignores Orion arc so Katrina doesn't free Headless to escape him._

**AN:** Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)

**Join Team Brambie!**

* * *

It was scant hours from dawn, when the Headless Horseman heard the locks slide from their couches and a sharp squeal of the vault door opening.

One set of soft footfalls came down the corridor, too light to be a man. _Has Katrina finally returned?_

No.

Abraham felt his lip curl in irritation. It was Ichabod's dark shadow and other half of the 'Witness' duo: the 'Leftenant'.

He tugged at the enchanted chains holding him bound to the dungeon walls. Several moments with his arms free and he could be finally rid of the meddling girl who had trapped him here...

Her face appeared in the armored glass window and he glared at her. There was no satisfaction in the effort since she couldn't see his expression.

He paused.

Something was off.

The woman - _Mills_, he recalled - was having trouble standing in her shoes. The reason was quickly apparent when she lifted a half empty bottle to her mouth for a long swallow. Her chocolate eyes were hazy when they found him.

"There you are!" she said cheerfully. "I came down here...I caaaame down here to tell you..." She trailed off, as if she had forgotten what she wanted to say. Abraham shifted his weight, impatient for her to get through her speech and be gone again.

"Moloch is dead!" Mills raised the bottle in a mocking salute.

_So they succeeded_, he thought. He had felt the connection to his demon master fade, but he hadn't been sure if it was just distance or the hexes carved into his shackles. Though Moloch had given him a new purpose, Abraham was not sorry to see the wretch gone. Demons were untrustworthy and dishonorable, it felt good to know he was his own man once more.

As much as a Horseman of the Apocalypse could _be_ his own man anyway...

"Where is Katrina?" he asked.

Mills ignored him, taking another swallow from her dwindling supply.

Abraham cursed. Without the magical pendant to give him an illusory head, he was effectively mute. He could yell three inches from the Leftenant's ear and she still wouldn't hear him.

The girl started talking again. "I still can't believe we finally did it - we beat the bad guy!

"But Frank..." Mills' eyes sparkled with unshed tears, her smile going brittle. "Captain Irving was a hero, he fell while keeping demons off of us."

Abraham couldn't care less about War's puppet, but didn't have a way to tell the girl to be silent. He pulled at his bonds in frustration.

Mills shook herself and continued. She turned the bottle into a prop, brown-skinned hands sloshing the amber liquid around to punctuate her points. "Hawley took a bad cut to the arm, but fought like a champ. Jenny is patching him up, or so she says. Henry. Now, _Henry_ was the shocker. He switched sides, _again_, and struck the killing blow. The look on Moloch's face was…well, _ugly_ is the word I would use. But I guess he already _was_ hideous."

That was a surprise to Abraham as well, the Horseman of War had always seemed steadfast in the cause of their master. Perhaps Katrina was right and familial influence was stronger than anyone would have believed.

"Henry disappeared though, presumed dead. But I guess _you_ would know better than we would if War was still around."

_Not that I would ever tell you._

Abraham wondered if Mills heard him because she went silent for several moments, contemplative.

"I haven't told you the best part yet," she said finally, her voice hollow and flat. "Katrina found a spell to send her and Ichabod home."

Abraham froze.

Dark eyes tracked over to him. "That's right, back to the 1700's where they can live out their lives like none of this ever happened."

She couldn't see his face, but tension was in every line of the Horseman's body.

Her voice became a sarcastic falsetto: "'But Abbie! The tribulations' are supposed to last seven years and we're not even half way yet! What ever shall we _do_?'" Mills snorted. "Katrina is sure that if they go back with the stuff she learned from this time, she can do…_magicky_ things with her Coven to keep us from getting to this point. I tried to explain to her that cheesy time-travel crap never works, but she's determined and Crane...Well, that man can't say 'no' when it comes to his wife."

Abraham's world was closing in on him. _It can't be...Katrina..._

"It will take a while to gather the ingredients for the spell, it's not like they can go to Walmart to pick up some of the creepier stuff. A couple months, maybe even a year and then..." A sigh shuddered through Mills' petite frame as she downed another long swallow of whiskey. "I'll be stuck with you, while the people we…well, they'll be gone forever."

The Horseman's hands were tightened fists, denial raking at his insides.

She looked at him, but her gaze was vacant. "I know, right? I had gotten so used to Crane being around. It felt…it felt like he was meant to be here...But I think _you_ had it worse off, honestly. At least Crane never…" Mills took a shaky breath. "Katrina _played _you. She lied and used you to get what we needed."

Abraham roared, lunging against his bonds with such renewed fury he nearly missed what she said next.

"I told myself I was OK with it: you were a _monster_. Monsters don't have feelings. You killed Corbin, you deserved to hurt as much as I did…But I saw your face. I _saw_ how you looked at Katrina…You really love her. It made me feel like _I_ was the monster for going along with the plan. It was wrong to do that to you, monster or not."

Some of the rigidity leaked from Abraham's stance, his shoulders drooped.

"Now she's going back to a time where you're dead, I was never born and they get a happily ever after," bitterness wrinkled her pretty face in a frown. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

The Horseman surged forward, snapping the chains at his wrists taut as he clawed the air.

"Yeah, I figured that you wouldn't care." Mills took another heavy draft of alcohol. "Still, I wanted you to know."

She watched Abraham for a few moments, muzzy and thoughtful. "You could probably use a drink too."

The Horseman was still agitated but he watched the cell door open and Mills stumble inside without further outbursts.

"I don't…well, you don't have a mouth, so I don't know where it should go. I could pour it on your…your _stump_, but then I'd feel like I was watering a plant or something…" The image made her giggle. "Look at us: plants and zombies..."

She frowned as he drew away from her, Abraham's disapproval was palatable. "Fine, be that way."

The bottle was being emptied at a rate fast enough that he was amazed Mills was still standing, let alone lucid. Perhaps this century's liquor wasn't as strong as it was in his day.

"You know…" Abraham didn't like the edge to her sudden grin. "I always did have a thing for a man in uniform. All tied up like that, a girl could get ideas."

The chains clanked loudly as the Horseman startled. Whatever he had expected her to say, it certainly wasn't _that_.

"Don't worry, I'm not depraved enough to take advantage of you like this. Well, not _quite_." Mills' laugh was rich as she circled him like a shark. "_Still_, when Katrina's thing did its _thing_ and we saw what you really looked like…You were _much_ more handsome than I expected a dead man to be."

She plucked at one of the chains attached to his waist. "Aaannd, I bet that blonde hair goes _aaallll_ the way down the rabbit trail…"

Abraham tried to turn as far as the restraints would allow. Disturbed by her comments more than he wished to admit, he didn't want to let the woman out of his sight.

"But that's not really why I'm here." She stopped in front of him again, the mocking grin had faded to melancholy. "I thought, since everyone is off celebrating, you and I were the odd men out. I just...I didn't want to be alone."

Abraham was having trouble following Mills' rapid emotional shifts. _We're enemies and yet she would rather choose my presence over the others? And such language! She is worse than a painted whore!_

"Can I ask you some things?"

Mills giggled again, reading the exasperation transmitted by his body language.

"Talking would be much easier with the necklace, but how about this…once for 'yes', twice for 'no'?"

He stood there silent, stubborn and suspicious of what she might ask given her recent comments.

"Come on, what else do you have to do? Watch the mold grow?" She ticked the points on her fingers: "Your master is dead, his cronies scattered. You shouldn't expect a rescue any time soon, so you might as well pass the time with twenty questions."

After a long minute, the Horseman flicked the chain on his right wrist.

_Yes._

"See, that's the spirit," Mills smiled in triumph. "Of course, I can't tell if you're lying to me, but…"

_Yes._

"Well, that's a great start," she grumbled.

He offered no reply. Abraham didn't have any interest in playing this game, but if she wouldn't go away then perhaps he could divine her intentions through what questions she chose.

"Now…what to ask…" She snapped her fingers: "Are you still a servant of Moloch?"

_No._

"So, you're saying that you are calling your own shots now? A free agent?"

Her word choice was confusing, but he believed he understood what she meant._ Yes._

"But you still want to kill us?"

_Yes._

Mills quirked an eyebrow and chuckled. "That's not winning you a lot of brownie points toward your release."

The Horseman shifted his weight in annoyance, she could almost hear him cursing to himself.

_No._

"See, now I think you're lying. Not that I didn't think you were lying _before_, but still…"

_No!_

"Fine, we'll come back to that."

She took a deep breath. "Did you kill Corbin on Moloch's orders?"

The Horseman was silent.

Mills' temper sparked. "The first time we met, there was an older man with me. _Sheriff Corbin_. You chopped off his head before busting out of a barn on that white horse of yours. Did. You. Kill. Him. On. Orders?"

_No._

"No?" She frowned.

Abraham didn't feel the need to elaborate, but it was clear from her expression that the annoying woman wasn't going to let the matter drop. He jingled the chain on his wrist to draw her attention. The Horseman made a shape with his hand: he straightened his thumb and forefinger while curling the rest inward.

"He had a gun?"

_Yes._

"You're saying you chopped his head off because he had a gun?" The incredulous expression wrinkled her face up in unpleasant ways. "You expect me to believe that you killed the man, who was the closest thing I had to a father, in _self-defense_?"

The Horseman shrugged, the entire iron harness binding his chest clanking. _I don't care what you believe._

In a flash, the small woman became a tempest. She shattered the empty whiskey bottle on his shoulder, then accosted him with a flurry of punches and kicks. Mills couldn't truly hurt the Horseman, but her assault would have crippled a normal man. She screamed unintelligible curses at him with each strike.

He didn't know the words, but he recognized the fury.

The punches came slower as she began to cry. Eventually the grief became too much and she could only hold onto him as she sobbed.

Though Abraham disliked the woman, her obvious misery made him uncomfortable. He was _headless_, not _heartless_.

After several minutes, she quieted and stepped away from him. She wiped her reddened eyes and took another deep, shaky breath. "Corbin shot you and he died for it." Her voice was raw from crying. "That's why you didn't kill me that night, isn't it? I was too scared to pull the trigger."

_...Yes._

"Bet you regret not killing me anyway."

The Horseman just watched at her.

Mills' legs felt like they were different lengths, making her unsteady and vaguely seasick. She slid down the wall to sit on the stone floor.

Abraham heard a last quiet sob: "I miss him."

_Before this is over, you shall miss much more than your Sheriff._

Her only reply was a soft snore.

* * *

**AN:** I had never thought about this particular pairing until I stumbled across a fic by Frostbytefire and then it was all over. Not only did I drink the Koolaid, but I had to serve it too. I'm even working on "Brambie" artwork and Tshirts...it's gotten a little nuts.

This is by far the longest story I have ever written. _Period._

If you've read my stuff before, you know that I'm lucky if I can get something over 3k words. I've been strapped to the front of this runaway train for over a month now, belting out between 500 and 1k words a day. The unfinished draft is now over _31k_ with another 4-5k in scene scraps, and feels like it might only be about 2/3rds of the way done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Winner Takes All - Chapter 2**

_Spoilers up through Season 2 finale, ignores Orion arc so Katrina doesn't free Headless to escape him._

**AN:** Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)

**Trigger Warning:** The majority of this Fic is from the Headless Horseman's POV and Abraham is essentially a noble from an era where slavery and sexism were an accepted fact. Some of his thoughts/language can be considered offensive, but understand that he has been in torpor for centuries and hasn't had time to adjust to modern sensibilities yet. Be patient for Abbie to get his act straightened out before you send me hate mail.

**Join Team Brambie!**

* * *

Though she never admitted whether she remembered anything from that night, Mills started spending more time at the dungeon. Typically she was with Ichabod, other times with her sister.

Sometimes she came alone.

It was never explicitly stated, but Abraham got the sense that Mills wanted to keep her unescorted visits a secret from the others. Though he could not fathom the reason why, he nevertheless found it curious.

When they had an audience, she was quiet, thoughtful and (mostly) restrained. Yet, when she had the Horseman to herself, Mills peppered him with an endless stream of questions: some odd, some silly, some not. As the weeks trickled by, it struck the Horseman that he was being interrogated by inches. He didn't see any real harm in it, Moloch was dead and all of his schemes turned to dust along with him.

The slow beat of Death's avatar in Abraham's chest meant that the Game was far from over. Yet while everyone waited for the next volley of the Apocalypse, the Horseman was forced to admit that Mills had been correct: the monotony of imprisonment was its own special Hell. He would have to content himself with any amusement he could find.

And she provided an easy target.

The occasions where Abraham had encountered the Leftenant in the field had been brief and mildly annoying, as far as he was concerned. Mills had set herself as the loyal hound at Ichabod's side: barking and growling whenever her master was threatened. Now that Abraham was able to study her from out of the scholar's shadow, Crane's 'pet' was proving to be more interesting.

Her boldness continued to surprise him. The colored people Abraham had known from his era had been shy, furtive creatures that were obsequiously polite for fear of a reprimand from their betters. Abraham had never owned slaves himself, but it was a common enough practice that he had not imagined what society would be like without them. Clearly, slavery had fallen out of fashion in the intervening centuries, else Mills' attitude would have earned her bloody stripes or a walk to the gallows.

He thought that would have been a shame.

During her interrogations, Abraham enjoyed exploiting the yes/no limitation of their dialog to trap her in circular arguments. The more she would try to hide her annoyance, the more he would push. A few times he actually made Mills irritated enough to accost him physically: poking him in the chest with a finger while her lips pulled back in a furious snarl.

_The pup aspires to become a wolf..._

The Horseman's unquestioned superiority didn't last.

Dainty, black and female as she was, Mills also proved to be clever. She quickly caught on to Abraham's tactics and became more thoughtful about what she asked. The loopholes closed and suddenly he had to choose his answers more carefully.

At first, Abraham was irritated that his games were spoiled. But he soon found that the more accomplished his opponent became, the more satisfaction he gained from sparring with her. The gleam in Mills' eye made the Horseman suspect that she was starting to enjoy their battles as much as he.

The times that Katrina visited the dungeon to renew the magical locks were the most difficult for Abraham. Unbidden, he would recall the Leftenant's slurred accusations and the words would burn like acid in his stomach.

Despite everything that had happened, he still loved the witch and had hoped to rekindle her feelings for him. Keeping her captive and locked in a warded house might not have been the most romantic way to spend time together, but Abraham had been desperate. For a while, his gamble had seemed to be paying off: Katrina repeatedly returned to him when she had opportunities to flee.

He was wrong.

Now, their situations were reversed: with the Horseman as the prisoner and any hope that Katrina would feel the stirrings of affection fading like summer snow.

The once warm and compassionate woman was now cool and professional, finishing her tasks quickly with little fuss or conversation. Though Katrina's enchanted pendant provided him an illusory head while in her proximity, Abraham found himself reluctant to speak.

What would he say? What _could_ he say to make her understand that his actions were all for her?_ I became an instrument of the Apocalypse to make you my Queen and safe from the cruel death awaiting the rest of mankind?_

How could he make her listen when her green eyes would skip across him like a stone on a lake, as if she didn't want to look too closely at her handiwork?

Abraham wished that he could just forget the witch: her smile, her laugh, how her hair looked like ruby fire in the sun...

On those and subsequent days, he would deny even the simplest of queries from the Leftenant, just to be spiteful.

Abraham refused to think of it as sulking.

* * *

One day, Mills sang.

Abraham watched her face in amazement, tracing the expressions drawn from the music like he was seeing her for the first time.

Her eyes were closed, focusing on a silent melody that made her entire body sway with the rhythm. As with everything she did, Mills put the full force of her soul behind her voice. The unique acoustics of the dungeon tunnels served to enhance her natural talent rather than detract from it.

"_My head's underwater but I'm breathing fine,  
you're crazy and I'm out of my mind.  
Cause all of me, loves all of you.  
Love your curves and all your edges,  
all your perfect imperfections.  
Give your all to me, give my all to you.  
You're my end and my beginning,  
even when I lose I'm winning.  
Cause I give all of me, and you give me all of you-_"*

He didn't recall moving, but a link of his chain clanked; startling the Leftenant and making her eyes pop open in surprise. Her cheeks flushed dark with sudden embarrassment and guilt coiled unpleasantly in Abraham's gut.

_No._

"What?" she said, defensive and flustered. "I'm just practicing…there's a karaoke contest later…"

He didn't know what carry-oakie was and he didn't have a way to ask. Frustrated, Abraham waved his hand rhythmically back and forth.

"I don't understand," Abbie frowned and then shook her head. "You know what, this is stupid. I'll just go—"

_No._

"Trust me, I've already made you listen to too much—"

_No!_

"_What?_" She paused, looking at him suspiciously. "Don't tell me you actually like my singing?"

_…Yes._

Her voice seemed to fail her for a moment from shock. She watched him wave his hand once more and realized that it was the movements a conductor would give to an orchestra. "You like music?"

_Yes._

Mills chewed on her lip thoughtfully. After a moment, she finally came to a decision and unlocked the cell door. As she entered, she reached into her pocket and withdrew the strange flat device that it seemed everyone in this century had. After a few moments of tapping, she found something that pleased her. Abraham watched Mills remove a pair of small plugs from her ears that were connected to the device by a long white thread.

She gave him a searching look. "This might be a little weird, so don't freak out." With that strange comment, she reached toward him.

Abraham couldn't help the twitch that ran through his body as she carefully placed a white plug on each of his shoulders.

"I said: don't freak out," she admonished. "Now comes the next part."

He startled once more when she pressed her finger on the device and suddenly the sweet chords of a piano drifted to his intangible ears. The sound was slightly distorted, but still blessedly recognizable. Abraham felt an uncertain smile try to bloom on his face.

The sorcery of this new time was quite remarkable.

"Do you like it? It's Mozart," she said softly.

It _was_ Mozart, but not a piece he recognized. Still, the signature of the master was present in the flowing beauty of the music. _Yes_.

"I can find other stuff, if you like—"

_Yes._

"Well, ok then," Abbie's expression was wry. "I'll bring a radio next time."

* * *

Somewhere between Bach and London Grammar, Abraham began to look forward to the Leftenant's arrival.

No longer afraid of his scrutiny, she would dance and sing freely while they were alone. Though the lyrics she spouted leaned toward gibberish, she would occasionally ask his opinion on particular verse interpretations.

The 'radio', as she called it, was a wonder. No longer did he have to sit in the silence of his own mind, listening to the cracks in his sanity grow larger with each passing week. Mills provided him with auditory novels that she referred to as 'books on tape' to fill the dark hours between her visits. Many of the discs contained historical accounts of events that were, ironically, ahead of his time. The sense of dislocation was a bit unnerving, yet he found it fascinating to learn the fates of his contemporaries.

Abraham frowned at the more blatant inaccuracies, but, as they say: 'history was written by the winners'.

Mills also presented him with a book about how to speak through hand symbols. She explained it was used by people who could not hear and it seemed a clever enough solution for his own circumstances that he accepted her offer to teach him. His restraints forced them to make modifications to signs that required conjoined hand movements, yet being no longer mute felt incredibly liberating.

There were _always_ more questions. Like a child, Mills was curious about everything from what jokes General Washington favored to what life was like growing up in England. He answered what was safe and played ignorant of what wasn't. With his expanding vocabulary of symbols, Abraham's replies were able to become more complex and she revisited earlier queries for greater detail.

When she wasn't pestering him, the Horseman liked to watch her pour through old books and papers, absently humming under her breath as she read.

One night, Abraham was surprised to realize that Katrina hadn't been to the dungeon in over a month.

What surprised him more was that he didn't mind.

* * *

As the time of the Cranes' departure drew closer, it became clear to Abraham that Mills was using her dungeon visits to escape Katrina's growing excitement.

The Horseman thought he should be offended, but ultimately felt it would have been disingenuous, since the Leftenant served as a distraction for him as well.

Though she still performed her duties as both a constable and Witness, the frequency and length of time Mills spent in the Horseman's cell began to swallow up her 'free' hours. More than once she woke from a light doze to see the clock indicate that dawn had already passed. She began carrying a bag with a change of clothes, just in case she had to work an early shift.

To his credit, Crane was smart enough to notice the growing distance between himself and his partner.

Mills hid behind fake smiles even the Horseman could see through. Yet, when Ichabod would try to talk to her about it, she would simply paste on another grin and simply say nothing was wrong. The further she pulled away, the more desperate the scholar became to mend the disintegrating bond he felt they shared.

Abraham would have laughed if he hadn't been so angry.

Anyone with eyes could see the source of Crane's _real_ distress.

To the Horseman, Ichabod had truly become the most vile of creatures: he had sundered their oath of friendship, stolen Katrina from her rightful husband, and now had the unmitigated gall to harbor an infatuation for another woman.

That Mills was apparently unaware of the scholar's blooming affection was of little comfort, but Abraham was still strangely thankful for it.

* * *

The sudden reappearance of Henry Parrish put further stress on everyone, causing a rift to form in the Witness camp as they bickered over his perceived intentions.

Mills had grown comfortable enough with Abraham to feel it was safe to speak with him on the subject. She described the 'family' reunion in objective detail, as if she were recounting the story from one of the dusty journals she always carried.

Katrina was convinced that her son had been redeemed by his selfless act of slaying Moloch. She sought to spread her blind faith to the rest of the group, insisting that Henry had stayed away so long to protect them from any demons bent on vengeance. No doubt, murdering a high level Infernal was grounds to be leery of retribution, yet even a Knight of Hell would hesitate to take on a former Horseman of the Apocalypse. It was clear that the bond Henry had forged with his mother had influenced his return, but Mills believed there was more to his motives than that.

Katrina fawned over her son, spending much of her time sequestered with him at Fredrick's Manor despite the unpleasant memories that were attached to the place. She announced that, with Henry's help, she would be able to complete the Traveller's spell ahead of schedule and with greater potency.

It was news that was received with mixed emotions.

Ichabod _wanted_ to believe, but given that Henry had tried to kill him on multiple occasions, Crane was understandably reluctant to welcome his son with open arms. For the sake of his beloved wife, he was willing to try.

There was no need for Mills to tell Abraham how she felt: distrust was written all over her face.

Having become acquainted with the warlock during their service as Riders, Abraham frankly agreed with her. Henry Parrish was dangerous, whether he was a Horseman or not.

The unexpected turn of events, however, kindled a spark of hope in Abraham's heart. As diverting as Mills had become, he remained a prisoner. If War had returned then perhaps a plan was finally in motion that would free Death from captivity.

Abraham just had to continue to be patient and ready for whatever happened next.

* * *

_**AN:** Warning, thar be smut on da horizon!_

_***Soundtrack:** "All of Me" - John Legend_


	3. Chapter 3

**Winner Takes All - Chapter 3**

_Spoilers up through Season 2 finale, ignores Orion arc so Katrina doesn't free Headless to escape him._

**AN:** Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)

Big thanks to my long-suffering Beta Readers: RS73 and Bittenfeld! I wouldn't have gotten this chapter out on time without you both, :D

Thank you everyone for your fantastic reviews! I'm honored that so many seem to be enjoying this fic as much as I am writing it!

There may be a delay in posting the next chapter, so this one is a bit longer in compensation (almost twice the size of previous chapters).

**Special 'Team Brambie' note at the end of the chapter! :D**

* * *

As the Horseman brooded in his cage, the Witnesses and their companions worked hard to clean up the paranormal scourge that lurked in Sleepy Hollow. Even without Moloch's influence, the network of ley lines skirting the city acted like a magnet for the forces of evil. Through perseverance, a liberal use of firearms and a bit of luck, the seemingly endless parade of lesser demons and monsters were dispatched without alerting the general public that anything was amiss.

From pesky ash sprites to formidable witch cabals, the leftenant met all challenges with courage that would have been the envy of an army general. Yet when the battles were over, she would slip away from the celebrations to seek the quiet of Abraham's cell.

He didn't complain.

Trophies, boxes and jars inscribed with Ichabod's tidy penmanship began to pile up in the dusty corners of the Masonic prison, their contents too dangerous to keep in the normal archive room where they could be stumbled upon by some unsuspecting officer. Some of the items were quite impressive and rare, including a wyvern's skull that had to be pried from the blond privateer's clutches as if it were his firstborn child.

Thinking of the young treasure hunter made Abraham irritated for reasons he could not pinpoint. He had known such men from his own time as a young rake: rogues and thieves who would sell out their own mothers if there was a profit to be made. The blond was also more friendly with the leftenant and her sister than Abraham deemed appropriate and, adversaries or not, the Horseman felt it would be dishonorable to let his suspicions go unspoken.

"Hawley?" Mills' eyebrows rose in surprise.

_Untrustworthy._

"Says the Horseman of the Apocalypse who has tried to kill me on several occasions."

_Honest. Enemy. False. Friend._

"Is that so? If I didn't know any better, I would say you were jealous."

The very idea brought him up short.

_Absurd._

"Exactly. I think it's far more likely that you just want to spread distrust; get us to turn on each other. _However_, Crane seems to have the same opinion as you do about Nick, so maybe there is something to it. Either way, our list of allies isn't long enough that we can afford to be picky. Hawley has stuck with us when it mattered and that has to count for something."

Still smarting from the suggestion that he was jealous, and the possibility that he and Ichabod could agree on _anything_, Abraham didn't comment.

"Besides, Jenny would probably break him in half if he did something stupid."

The Horseman snorted and let the matter drop.

He noticed the sheaf of papers in Mills' hands and from the frown on her face, the information they contained was unpleasant.

_What. On. Parchment._

"What? This?"

_Yes._

"It's work, actual _work_ work. There was a murder on the other side of town." Mills looked thoughtful for a moment. "A homeless man was found in a ditch, all pale and pasty. He wasn't much older than me, but the body looked like it had prematurely aged. I thought it might have been from another succubus, like the one...well, the one _Henry_ summoned last year. But this body wasn't drained like those, so it's either something different or this bitch is smarter."

_Suspect. Dark. Magic._

"Yeah," she sighed. "Is it terrible that I find myself wishing for a normal murder for a change? This mystical crap is _sooo_ beyond my job description."

_Ask. War._

"I don't want to ask him," Mills frowned. "Henry is the last person I would expect to give me a straight answer."

_But. Not. Me._

"No...not you," she looked at him closely. "I don't know why, but there it is."

The Horseman felt unaccountably smug.

"Why _do_ you talk to me as much as you do?"

_Boredom._

"Yeah. Right."

_You. Asked._

Mills rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly with her papers before walking away.

* * *

It had been a terrible mistake.

He should have let the it fade into obscurity, but he had been curious as to where the Sword of Methuselah had been stored. Yet, as soon as his fingers had finished the proper symbols he realized his error.

Mills' chocolate eyes were sharp as they bore into him. "Why? Do you think you could use it because you're immortal like Henry was?"

Abraham kept his hands in a fist, not wanting to step deeper into the trap he had inadvertently sprung.

"Actually, that makes me think of something else," she stepped closer to him, the scent of her jasmine shampoo filling his intangible nose. "At Fredericks Manor, you looked afraid when Ichabod threatened you with the sword. But here, when it was _Frank_, you were just angry…" Mills looked thoughtful as she ran the memory back through her mind. "Why didn't you let Ichabod kill you? If you hated him so much, why tell him the blade's secret at all? One swing and he would have died right along with you, vengeance managed…"

The Horseman shifted, uncomfortable in the spotlight of her intense scrutiny.

"Maybe _you_ weren't afraid of dying," her eyes lit up. "You were afraid of _Crane_ dying."

Abraham's chains jerked tight._ No._

"Why not? He was your best friend for years before Katrina complicated things." Mills was like a dog with a bone once she got an idea into her head. "That's it, isn't it? Somewhere in that black husk of a heart, you still care for him."

The Horseman didn't answer.

"Don't want to answer that? Fine, you can let me draw my own conclusions then." Abbie could hear the metal chains tremble from his outrage as she turned away, hiding a triumphant smirk. He was waiting for her when she looked back.

_Not. True._

"Oh? Then tell me what you were really feeling."

Abraham seethed. _Not. Want. Die._

"Maybe the first time, but the second? If you didn't want to die, it shouldn't have mattered who was holding the sword. You should have been equally afraid but you weren't."

_War. Pet. Not. Kill._

She paused. "Frank wasn't under Henry's influence then."

_So. Certain._

The idea was one that had clearly not occurred to her and Mills chewed her lip as she mulled it over. "If that was true, why did Frank help us against the Horseman of War later?"

_Misdirection._

"Misdirection? Frank _died!_"

Abraham didn't reply, just watched the puzzle pieces click into place behind her eyes.

"Can a man with no soul truly die?" Thoughts and memories scrolled like a movie reel in Mills' head, playing through all of the times that Henry had tricked them. When she focused back on Abraham, her expression was glacial. "If Henry really is playing us now, I'll use the sword on him myself."

_Allow. Me._

"Nice try," Mills scoffed. "But if you think we're going to let two Horseman in the same room together, _even supervised_, you can forget it. Chained or not, I don't trust you enough for that, and I don't trust Henry _at all_."

He was struck by her comment._ You. Trust. Me._

A faint smile cleared some of the anger from her expression. "I'd say: 'I trust you about as far as I could throw you.' But I actually know judo, so that could be as far as across the room."

He didn't know what 'judo' was, but the context gave him a good idea of her meaning._ Bold. Words._

"You say that now. But if you get loose and end up crying on the floor, remember that I warned you."

The Horseman flicked his hand dismissively, clearly not intimidated.

"Anyway, you and Henry were thick as thieves not too long ago. Why would you turn on him?"

Abraham's fist tightened slightly before opening to form the necessary letters.

_He. Hurt. Katrina._

"Of course." Only the months of close contact allowed him to see the brief flicker of sadness she tried to hide. "Everything comes back to Katrina, doesn't it?"

* * *

It was the early morning hours when Katrina slipped into his cell, her scarlet hair shining in the harsh UV light as she made sure they were alone. "Abraham!"

The Horseman's surprise was quickly burned away by suspicion.

"I have little time before my presence is missed-"

"Why _are_ you here?" he asked bitterly. "Have you a message from War? Or perhaps, you have simply come to say goodbye to the condemned?"

"Abraham, I do not relish in seeing you caged-"

"Do you not? You seemed content enough to let me rot here for months without so much as a 'by your leave'. You come only to strengthen the bars of my cage or not at all. Do not attempt to placate me with empty words, witch," he snarled. "Tell me, how soon will you and your _husband_ be leaving for the distant past?"

Hurt flashed in her green eyes and for a moment he felt a stab of guilt.

Only for a moment.

"Please, Abraham...I _do_ care for you. I wish things could have been different between us, but...I was a foolish and fickle girl who was not ready for what you wanted."

His treacherous heart sang with the possible interpretations of her words, but in the end, it just made everything hurt more. "Is that the excuse you use to comfort yourself?"

"You are angry and I deserve that for my part in what happened. I cannot undo the grievous insult I have given you, but before I go, I...let me...let _us_ be as we could have been..."

Katrina stepped closer, delicate hands reaching for the soiled tails of his cravat.

"What is this? You seek to play the doting wife to me now?"

She ignored him, tugging the knots loose to expose the shortened line of his neck.

He wanted to spit at her, to tell her to go back to her duplicitous husband, but the words died in his throat as she kissed the hollow of his collarbone.

Heat lanced through Abraham as she looked up at him with emerald eyes dilated nearly to black. He tried to focus on her betrayal, the endless lies, but it was his own body and heart that defeated him as her hands worked their way downward toward his breeches. The Horseman stifled a moan, however, the wicked smile she gave him spoke volumes as to his level of success.

The buttons on his trousers were no match for her clever fingers and he felt them pop loose enough for Katrina to slip her hand inside.

She purred against his chest, listening to him groan louder as she grasped him firmly.

_"Kat-"_

"Hush...Please, allow me to do this for you."

Their engagement had been arranged and studiously formal, which means to say: it was relatively chaste. A few kisses, embraces and the occasional brush of a hand across her shoulders had been all that was appropriate for the time. Never before would Abraham have thought Katrina capable of brazenly fondling any man-_let alone one who was not her husband_-in such a manner. He was both thrilled and appalled.

And yet...the look in her eye was one he had only ever dreamed of in his darkest fantasies. It kindled a fire in his blood that could not be ignored.

Her nimble hands were, at turns, gentle and then rough with the faint scrape of her nails across his skin. Shivers ran through his body as his heart pounded like a galloping horse.

"This is pleasurable, sweet Abraham, but not enough. I wish for more of you."

He didn't have the breath to ask what Katrina meant before she dropped to her knees in front of him.

For once, he was grateful for the chains holding him up as his legs buckled the moment her lips touched him. His head fell back and a loud animal sound clawed its way out of his chest.

Licking around the crown of his erection, Katrina used her saliva to help roll back the foreskin and expose the hypersensitive flesh underneath. She moved slowly, savoring every twitch and throaty whine she drew from the Horseman.

She fell into a rhythm that helped him breathe enough to try to speak. "Katrina-"

A small hand reached around to the back of his leg while the other gripped his shaft tighter. She pressed him deep into her throat, trying to take in as much as she could without choking.

"_Hell's fire_," Abraham gasped, his thoughts once more scattered and useless. His bound fists tightened to draw bloody fingernail marks on his palms.

She was performing the most exquisite of tortures with her tongue, alternating between sucking and licking the straining length. His hips rocked instinctively, seeking deeper contact.

Tension rose up through his legs and across his back, tightening like a coiled spring the base of his spine. Abraham fought to maintain control, but the reality of the moment had put to shame his cherished imaginings. "I-I _cannot-_"

The Horseman cried out, shuddering as his seed rushed into her hot mouth with the force of one long denied.

She hummed in pleasure as she sucked him dry, making his legs tremble with the release.

Abraham let his head fall forward again, dazed and chest heaving.

His heart stopped.

The woman below him was black-haired, not red.

"I told you, all chained up like this could give a girl ideas..." Mills said, licking her lips.

Abraham snapped awake with a silent shout.

* * *

He didn't respond to her questions for nearly three weeks.

Mills had gotten used to him giving her _something_, even if it was just an angry swing of his shoulders or a sharp 'no'.

"Are you ok?"

Nothing.

She frowned. Abraham was stubborn and arrogant in the way that only handsome nobles could be, but this felt different.

Mills was still working through her anger over Corbin's murder. But the months spent locked in with the Horseman had given her time to get to know him as more than just a walking nightmare. He appreciated good music, was thoughtful, well-educated and even _funny_ when he wasn't being obnoxious. He had come from a good family, fought against tyranny by helping the Revolution, fallen in love and had his heart broken by the ones he had trusted the most.

If he hadn't been a Harbinger of the Apocalypse, he could well have been a tragic hero.

Through all of the nights they had spent talking, Mills had started to believe that they were actually becoming amicable, even friendly. Which, when Abbie took time to really consider it, was _insane_. At the end of the day, Abraham was a monster bent on the destruction of everything she held dear, getting hurt feelings because he snubbed her attempts at conversation was absurd.

_Maybe I'm becoming like those nut-jobs who keep poisonous snakes as pets...'Hey kids! You wanna come see my Horseman of Death? Sure, he has murdered dozens of people - but he's really cuddly once you get to know him!'_

Abraham's extended silence made her uncomfortable for other reasons as well. Aside from it being unusual, she feared it might be a precursor to trouble of the Biblical kind. She reviewed what defenses she could from the control room, but there were other hexes and candles that she couldn't see from her vantage point. She would have to physically enter the cell to check them; and if Abraham was plotting something...

Abbie chewed her lip nervously. She and Katrina were supposed to be meeting the others at the opera house in twenty minutes, but she couldn't help thinking something was wrong with their prisoner.

"Damn it," she said, heading for the cell door.

Abraham heard the sharp clack of Mills' shoes on the stone and closed his eyes, trying to block out her presence.

He had always considered the leftenant irritating, capable, obstinate and even amusing. But since that fateful night, Abraham's thoughts had taken a much darker turn. He was having increasing trouble separating the reality of the Witness who held him captive from the wanton siren in his dreams.

He heard Mills walk around the room slowly, no doubt checking for gaps in the wards. The shackles each tugged and jingled as she tested their binding.

_Wretched woman, your prison is _fine_. Just leave! _he growled silently.

"Are you asleep?"

Her voice was closer than he expected and he jumped at the light brush of a hand on his chest. Reflexively, his eyes popped open.

He regretted it immediately.

She was in a dress, if such a scandalous bit of cloth could qualify for the designation. Stretched over her ample cleavage and hugging her curves, the gown was the color of fresh blood and set off her dusky skin tone to perfection. A long slit up the side gave an unobstructed view of her shapely legs down to the spindly heels that completed the outfit. Light cosmetics accented the planes of her face, making her chocolate eyes sparkle.

She was _breathtaking_.

The Horseman was infinitely glad she could not see his face as he drank in the view.

The protests he had cobbled together to dissuade fantasies of Mills taking root quickly fell apart. Abraham tried to hold onto the flicker of guilt at betraying Katrina's memory, but it was swept away in the stark truth that the witch held no such loyalty for him. He couldn't even hide behind the pathetic excuse that Mills was colored: she had proven herself to be every bit as worthy as any woman he had ever known.

Chains rattled as a shudder ran through his entire frame.

"Not asleep. You're just ignoring me then?"

His chest still tingled where she had touched him and every word drew his eyes to her mouth, compounding the problem. Abraham knew if didn't get control of himself soon she would _notice_.

The curious frown was still puckering her tinted lips. "Did something happen?"

Abraham was no stranger to lust, he had had his choice of willing bed partners before his engagement to Katrina. But, excepting his increasingly vivid dreams, it was literally centuries since he had been with a woman and his body ached with desperate frustration. He laughed like a broken man, crushing his eyes as tightly closed as his fists, hoping the temptress would miraculously disappear.

_Happen? Not as yet. Though, I must be going mad for how thankful I am for these restraints. Else, my honor and yours, would be in as much danger as that dress._

"What did just you say to me?" Abbie whispered.

The Horseman startled and looked to see a similarly shocked expression on her face.

Abbie's mouth opened soundlessly, but the dark blush creeping over her cheeks confirmed his worst fears a moment before Katrina appeared in the cell window.

Henry's enchantment.

Abraham had been so distracted he hadn't felt the telltale prickle that meant Katrina's necklace was about to provide him an illusory head.

And that Mills would be able to hear him.

"Brilliant," he muttered through gritted teeth. "I pray you, pardon my language. I meant no disrespect."

"Miss Mills?" Katrina called, flicking a glance back and forth between the odd pair. "Are we not expected at the symphony?"

"Yeah…" Abbie said, still numb with surprise. "Yeah, I'm coming."

"Very well." The witch's sharp eyes narrowed. "Is there something amiss? Do you require assistance?"

"No! No…I was...just was checking the candles."

"I see."

"Yep, everything's fine. We're all fine here. No problems." The leftenant stumbled slightly to the exit of the cell, as if she had forgotten how to walk in the short minutes since she had arrived.

Katrina gave the Horseman a final searching glance before following Mills out of the dungeon.

As the echo of the closing door faded, Abraham wondered if it was possible to die from utter humiliation.

* * *

Time crawled with no distractions, making the Horseman unsure of how long it was before Mills returned.

When she finally did appear in the dungeon window, there was no conversation and she wasn't alone. The leftenant simply collected whatever items or files she needed and fled, barely sparing him a glance.

Given how greatly he had desired to be rid of Mills in the past, he was surprised at just how much her new disregard bothered him.

After the fifth such visit, he had enough.

"What's he doing?" Jenny asked, staring through the window with a confused frown.

The prisoner rattled his chains loudly, looking for all the world like an apparition from the stage production of _A Christmas Carol_.

Mills had her back to the glass, but Abraham knew she could hear him.

"Abbie?"

"What? Who?"

"The _Horseman_, big scary headless guy? I asked: what's he _doing_? I've never seen him like this."

The leftenant sighed, and looked over her shoulder.

As soon as Abraham knew he had her attention, he stopped the constant jingle and snapped the chain once hard.

When she turned away, he started to shake the chain steadily again.

"Stop."

The chain snapped twice before resuming the childish game.

Jenny blinked. "You _understand_ him. Is he _talking_ to you?"

"He's trying to drive me crazy, is what he's doing," Abbie muttered under her breath. Clearly, the bastard wasn't going to stop until she did something about it, and her nerves were already shot as it was. Louder, Abbie said: "He might...be trying to distract us or...something. Can you go check the perimeter? See if there is something is sneaking up on us?"

The hard look on her sister's face told Abbie that the lie was every bit as weak as it sounded, but Jenny still picked up her sidearm and headed for the door. "You scream if something tries to eat you."

"Got it."

As soon as the wheel spun to open the cell, Abraham stopped the infernal noise.

"What do you want, Van Brunt?" the leftenant was angry, but she was at least speaking to him.

Shaking in mute frustration, Abraham cursed his missing head once more.

_Want. Talk._

"I don't want to talk to you."

_I. Wish. Talk._

"Really? You have more to add to what you said a month ago?"

_No._

"No? You sure? I mean, God knows how long that speech was. Maybe I only heard the tail end of it." Outwardly she was calm, but her words were clipped with rage.

_Give. Apology._

"You already did that. You want to apologize again?"

_Yes._

"Well, you should!" Mills paced a tight circle, glancing at the control room to make sure her sister hadn't returned. Closing the distance between them, Abbie poked him hard in the chest. She whispered angrily: "You don't talk to me for weeks and then when you _do_..._that_ was what you come out with?"

He was a bit annoyed. The leftenant had been far more coarse in her language the first night she passed out in his cell, but he felt alluding to that fact would be counterproductive.

_Was. Vulgar._

"You bet it was! And ever since then..." The hungry look was so quick he thought he imagined it.

_Problem._

"You think?! You're supposed to be the enemy, a _murderer_!" She growled under her breath, shaking her head. "This _can't_ be happening. I can't-I can't _think_ about you that way. I can't _fee_-My_ God_ what is _wrong_ with me?!"

Abraham's heart skipped a beat. Perhaps it hadn't been his imagination...

_Not. Wrong._

More emotions flashed across her face faster than he could identify. "Look, I can't deal with this right now-"

_Afraid._

"Of _course_ I'm afraid!" Her eyes were showing too much white, like a panicked horse. "What kind of person has dreams about a dead guy? _Sickos,_ that's who!"

_Not. Sick. Not. Dead._

"Not d—have you _seen_ yourself lately? I'd hate to be the bearer or bad news but-" Mills waved her hand through the space where his head would be, "-_you're not exactly the picture of health!_"

_Not. Sick._ Abraham's frustration was evident in the sharp snap of his fingers. _Dream. Of. You. Too._

Mills could only stare, unable to process the idea of the Headless Horseman dreaming about anything other than death and destruction.

"You...of _me_?"

_Yes..._

_Missed. You._

She stood frozen an eternity longer, struck speechless by his admission.

Finally, her eyes slid closed in defeat: "How did things get so crazy?"

He had no answer.

"No this...this is just _insane_!"

_Strange. For. Me. Also._

"What am I—what are _we_ going to do?"

Abraham paused, remembering how she had been frightened away by his careless remark previously. If he said the wrong thing now, Mills would bolt and this time she would likely never return.

He found the idea unacceptable, but he had so very little left to lose.

In for a penny...

_Friends._

"Friends?" Mills stared at him.

_Yes. Want. Try. Be. Friends._

"Seriously?"

_Yes. _

In for a pound...

_Friends. Then. Perhaps... Revisit. Question. Later._

"You really mean that," Mills blinked in confusion. A thousand things tumbled through her mind as she tried to reorder a world that had suddenly gone sideways.

The Horseman was silent as he watched the leftenant pace for several tense minutes. It was up to her now, he had gambled his last chip.

She paused and Abraham felt like the world held its breath with him.

"All right, let's say...let's say that I am open...to the...possibility."

Shackles jingled as he stood straighter. _Of._

"God, you're going to make me say it, aren't you?" Abbie cast another nervous glance back for her sister, convinced that Jenny was about to walk in and hear everything.

"Ok, fine! I would be open to...to being friends and maybe…" Her blush was spectacular and it sent a thrill up his spine. "We could see how things...y'know, _go_ after that_."  
_

A tightness that Abraham hadn't realized had been in his shoulders eased.

"This is so crazy," she muttered once more under her breath. "I can't believe I'm really..."

_Yes._

She stared at him a long time, a last doubt flickering in her eyes. "If this is some trick…"

Shackles chimed as the Horseman leaned forward, trying to impress upon her the gravity of his silent words. _No. Trick._

"All right." She sighed from the bottom of her soul. "We'll give it a try. No promises though."

Abraham almost wished she could have seen his triumphant grin.

* * *

**AN:** Oh sweet bondage...I know it was sort of a quickie and not the pairing everyone was looking for, but there are longer smut scenes coming - trust me, ;)  
June is a terribly busy month for me, so that is part of the reason this chapter was almost late and likely the reason that July might be delayed. Between family, an annual charity auction I need to prepare for, and a mess of crap at work - it's a wonder if I'll get anything done over the summer...

**_Special credit and thanks!_** to Mr. Neil Jackson for Abraham's curse phrase "Hell's Fire!" If you are reading this, it was awesome getting to speak with you and I hope you approve of how I am portraying your character! :D

**Team Brambie News!** \- Because I'm a bit of a nut, I created a 'Team Brambie' FaceBook page with the optimistic hope that it might grow into a real community. Because this isn't a common pairing, I think it would be great to have a place for fans to share the things they find so others can enjoy them as well. (The link is in my profile, spread the word!)


	4. Chapter 4

**Winner Takes All - Chapter 4**

_Spoilers up through Season 2 finale, ignores Orion arc so Katrina doesn't free Headless to escape him._

_**AN:** Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)_

_Big thanks to my Beta-Readers RS73 and Bittenfeld!_

_**Join Team Brambie!  
****facebook/teambrambie**_

* * *

Jenny waited nearly an entire afternoon before she pounced. "We need to talk about your little friend."

"What friend?"

"Unless you have another murderous undead guy squirreled away somewhere, you know _exactly_ which friend."

"There is nothing to talk about." Abbie busied herself with looking out of the cafe window, avoiding her sister's penetrating gaze.

"You're really going to go there?"

"I'm telling you, it's nothing."

Jenny just raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"I came back and _saw_ you in his cell. You obviously didn't want me to know, so I stayed back and just watched."

Guilt settled in the lieutenant's stomach, curdling the meager breakfast she had managed to choke down.

"Abbs, I've watched PBS, I _know_ what sign language looks like. It's not something you can pick up in a weekend, you've clearly been doing this for a_ while_."

"Look, It's no big deal. I'm just keeping him distracted."

"Distracted."

"Yeah, _distracted_. He's still human under all of that."

"You're not serious! He's a _monster_!"

"And a _man_, Jenny." Abbie swirled her cold latte, trying not to feel like a child caught pillaging a cookie jar. "He's...Look, we've _fought_ monsters. I don't think he really is one, at least not anymore. He's angry. He's locked up in a place arguably worse than Tarrytown. I'd have thought you might have been empathetic-"

"Don't you go there!"

"I'm sorry, you're right. But he's not...he's not _all_ bad."

Jenny's skepticism was thick enough to cut with a chainsaw.

"I mean it. I've been talking to him for a while, he isn't what we thought."

"He's a _liar_, Abbs."

"We _all_ are when the circumstances are right. But I don't think he's lying now." Abbie leaned forward, dropping her voice to avoid being overheard. "Besides, just think of it: he's a potential ally against the other Horseman."

"What? You really think you can turn him to the good side of the Force? You going to get him and Crane to be BFFs again while you're at it?"

"Jenny!"

"Speaking of tall, dark and British. What does Crane say about your little side project?

"He has enough on his plate."

"Shit, _really_? You haven't told him _at all_?"

"There's nothing to _tell_. Besides, you know how Crane is, I don't want him overreacting and putting more stress on everyone. Katrina already thinks something is going on between us. I don't need to add fuel to the fire."

"You and Crane, too? _Damn_, girl. Workin' magic all over the place."

Abbie rolled her eyes.

"_Is_ there something between you and Crane?"

"Of course not!"

"Well, I did notice you hadn't been making moon eyes at him so much lately. I'm guessing that Stumpy has something to do with it?"

"Don't call him that, especially where he can hear you."

"Fine. Look, I know I tell you all the time that you need to get out and find someone to hook up with. But this is _sooo not_ what I meant."

_"For the last time, Jen-"_

"I get it, but I also want you to be realistic here. The Horseman isn't some injured animal you can patch back up and adopt. He's a thinking being with an agenda we can't _begin_ to predict. Don't get caught up in some Florence Nightingale fantasy shit."

Abbie bit her lip, her irritation fading in the face of her sister's sound logic. "Thanks, I know you're worried."

"Damn straight I'm worried. He's a _blue marble_, Abbie."

The lieutenant flinched. "I hear you."

Jenny still wasn't convinced, but she let it go with a sigh. "Only you. The Horseman doesn't have a head and you _still_ found a way to talk to him."

"Yeah, I'm a real miracle worker."

"Just..._please_, don't get too close. Caged dogs can still bite."

_Don't I know it_, Abbie thought unhappily.

* * *

Katrina felt like there were rats gnawing at the inside of her skull.

Outside, the turn of the season was upon them and soon the trees would exchange their green leaves for ones of red and gold. Time was so short: the Traveller spell would be ready before the first snows.

She frowned at the blackened ruin in the bottom of her mortar before dumping the ashes into the sink with a disgusted sigh. She was so close to achieving her ultimate goal, distraction at this juncture was dangerous.

Though they had agreed to work through the recent strain in their relationship, Ichabod refused to spend nights at Fredericks Manor. The historic home was one of terrible memories for him, and he claimed that he would not be able to sleep while under its roof. Katrina could not leave the more delicate spell components without supervision and had to remain behind.

The witch tried to stamp out the bitterness that rose within her when she thought of the freedoms her husband's partner enjoyed. Mills could come and go as she wished, able to partake in the strange wonders of her modern world without the sense of dislocation that haunted Katrina's every step. Even Ichabod seemed to have acclimated to the twenty-first century with amazing speed. Everything Katrina found frightening, he found fascinating. He would wax poetic about how he counted thirty types of pastries at the market or that engineers had somehow managed to route continuous streams of water to small fountains specifically designed to keep the grass lush even in the worst drought.

All Katrina wanted was to feel the safety and security of her home.

The more time they spent in this strange era, the wider the rift in their marriage grew.

_Everything will be better when we return to where we belong._

Gathering fresh herbs to start the ruined potion over, Katrina reflected that the current separation she had with Ichabod was not so unlike the time she had spent in Purgatory. Only this time, she wasn't alone.

"Mother?"

A strange conflict of joy and trepidation filled Katrina when she looked up at her son. Henry was her blood, but he had tried to sacrifice her to a monster and bring forth the Apocalypse.

"Yes, Jeremy?" she said, watching the reaction to the childhood name flicker across his craggy face. Katrina wanted desperately to ease the centuries of pain and suffering that her son had had to endure.

To erase her failure as a mother that had ultimately driven him to seek vengeance against his parents...

_The Traveller spell _must_ work._

"You seemed _anxious_ at breakfast. Is there something amiss?"

Katrina's smile trembled. "It is nothing. I am...simply excited to soon be able to put everything to rights."

Black eyes that seemed to hold far too many secrets held hers captive. "As am I," Henry said slowly, a faint curl to his mouth his only concession to warmth. "In fact, I was wondering if we could speak together on that matter precisely..."

* * *

Life at the dungeon fell back into a routine with Mills renewing her weekly appearances. The unease she had initially felt at her rash acceptance of the Horseman's offer of friendship was gradually fading, and she actually started to enjoy his company.

Abbie swapped out more of the drier historical CDs with a wider variety of interests in an effort to keep him entertained. The sight of Abraham's chest shuddering in silent laughter brought a smile to her face. She debated smuggling a small portable television into the dungeon, but Mills wasn't sure exposing the Horseman to 'reality shows' would be good idea.

They practiced their unique form of sign language and spent hours talking about whatever came to mind. As Abraham became more fluent, his wicked sense of humor began to truly bloom and she could see why he and Crane had been friends.

The Horseman seemed to take special pleasure in the nights where she read to him herself. From classics to science fiction, Mills often fell asleep with a thick volume across her chest; the warm honey of her voice fading into soft echoes against the harsh stone walls.

The little bits of personal information Abraham teased her with left Abbie craving more. So much so, that she started adding county records to her stacks of research materials from the library.

His family had been large and remained wealthy even after they uprooted to leave England. Solid investments and advantageous marriages helped expand their holdings in a number of industries. Old survey maps showed Van Brunt estates stretching across large tracts of land between Sleepy Hollow and Boston. A snag tugged at her heart when she read the numbers, that kind of wealth also usually meant slaves...

Abbie forced herself to shake it off. Most people would have thought slavery was normal at that time, no matter how repugnant it really was.

As she dug deeper, she found what she was looking for:

_Abraham Alexander Van Brunt, born 23, July 1751.  
Emigrated to British colonies, 1771.  
__Engaged to Katrina Elizabeth Van Tassel, 1774.  
__Missing, presumed killed in action, 1774_.

Abbie was a bit disappointed with how little space the man took up in a book when he had come to loom so large in her own life.

Her finger stroked across the cramped letters of Abraham's name, wondering what his future would have been like if Fate had not gotten in the way.

_Alexander, huh?_ She snickered to herself before putting the tattered parchment back in its protective folder.

A week later, she presented the Horseman with a small wrapped package.

He frowned, unsure of what she expected him to do. _A gift?_

Abbie looked a bit nervous as she tore through the paper for him. "I missed your birthday, but I wanted to give you something anyway."

She held up a linen handkerchief with a thin lace edging. On one corner, he could see his initials and a small black skull embroidered by a clearly amateur hand. There was a small rusted red spot on the edge that looked suspiciously like dried blood.

_You made for me?_

"Yeah," she blushed. "Stabbed the crap out of my thumb because I didn't know what I was doing, but I wanted to...well, to _try_."

He was motionless long enough to make her fidgety.

"You...you don't like it?"

Abraham startled from his daze and saw her crestfallen look. _Is wonderful. I thank you._

She perked back up and gave him a sweet smile. "I wanted to give you something that you could keep on you. Y'know, something...nevermind," she muttered, embarrassed.

He felt her slip the folded cloth inside his coat, tucking it into the pocket near his heart.

When she stepped back, Abraham could still feel the warmth of her hand where it had slid across his chest.

_Thank you._

* * *

"You ok, Mills?"

Abbie startled, finally noticing the sheriff had paused by her desk. "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry…just long nights."

"Oh?" Reyes gave her an assessing look. "Anything I should know about?"

"No ma'am, just trouble sleeping."

"You should try hot milk with a little honey. My grandmother used to make it for us as kids when we couldn't sleep. Of course, now I sometimes use honey made by Southern Comfort." Amusement crinkled the corners of the sheriff's brown eyes.

Abbie smiled back. "Thanks, I'll have to try that."

"Let me know if that doesn't work. We've got a lot of cases stacking up and that Founders Week Festival thing coming soon. I need everyone on deck."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Have you made any progress on the homeless murder?"

The lieutenant grimaced, tapping the folder open on her desk. "Not so far. If the condition of the body wasn't so strange, I would have thought it was just an animal attack."

Reyes looked over her shoulder at the ME's report. "'Premature aging'? Could it be related to that string of barfly murders from last year? Those bodies had something similar didn't they?"

"Similar, but not the same," Mills said. "Those didn't have any claw marks or defensive wounds. The homeless man, Mr. Jacobi, was a war veteran and it looks like he put up a fight."

"For all the good it did him," the sheriff muttered. "Very well, keep me updated if you find out anything."

"Will do."

Abbie scrubbed her face as the sheriff walked away. The nights spent at the dungeon were becoming more frequent and it was starting to effect her work. A stray thought of packing a folding cot in her Jeep was quickly dismissed. Crane was already on edge enough with the completion of the Traveler spell so close. Finding out that she was practically sleeping with the enemy would send him over the brink.

She didn't want to think about what it would be like when the Cranes left. Would Katrina's plan succeed? Would the world be changed? Would anyone even know? What if things were already changing?

Would Abraham even exist anymore if they succeeded?

What if they had already _failed_ and that was why things were still so messed up?

Despite her best efforts, her brain chased its tail until someone else knocked on her desk.

"Abbie? You in there?"

"Luke?" Mills jumped, cursing internally at her exhaustion once more. "I thought you were on patrol?"

"Nice to see you, too," Morales said with a half-smile. "I just stopped by to drop off a runaway I found. Carter is trying to contact the kid's parents now, but if you ask me, he probably hasn't been home in a while."

"Why?"

"Filthy, scared, looks like he hasn't eaten in days. I feel for the kid, all alone...with nobody to look out for him..."

Abbie felt the significant stare Luke was sending and she resented his implication. If ever she needed a guardian to keep her safe, Luke would be last on the list of candidates.

"That's terrible," she said, trying to think of a way to end the awkward conversation gracefully. Crane was motioning to her through the bullpen window.

"Hey, I was wondering if-"

"Sorry, Luke. I can't really talk right now."

Morales noticed her distraction and glanced behind him. "Oh," he said with a touch of disgust. "Captain Cambridge still has you on a short leash, I see."

"He taught at _Oxford_ and I'm not on any leash." Abbie frowned, giving her coworker a hard look. "Least of all yours."

Luke was contrite. "Sorry, Abbie. I just…I want you to find someone to be happy with. You know? Someone…_normal_."

_If you only knew_, Mills shook her head, biting her tongue. "Crane and I are not together, Morales. And in any event, my sex life isn't your concern anymore."

"Abbie—"

"Thanks for the advice, but I need to go."

She heard Luke's frustrated sigh as she walked away, but she didn't have time for his lovesick fantasies. She had enough trouble dealing with her own fickle heart.

As she walked over to her fellow Witness, Mills could tell immediately that Crane was anxious. Lately, he always seemed twitchy and quick to anger, no doubt the strain of his impending departure was weighing on his mind.

Today proved no exception.

"Leftenant! I found this in the-" he broke off, belatedly checking for anyone who might be eavesdropping. "The _cell_."

Panic gripped Abbie as she saw the CD flip over in his large hands. _The Great Battles of the Civil War - _she must have left it behind when she came to work. Determined to play it off, she gave Crane a bland look. "I got it from the library, I put it on for Abraham."

"'Abraham'?" Crane looked as if she had just stated she was going to row a boat to the moon. "You...have you been _fraternizing_ with our prisoner?"

She knew he meant something other than what the phrase suggested, but even sheer willpower would not have been able to prevent the blush from incriminating her further. Defensively, she buried her reaction in anger. "Are you _serious_?"

"I-"

Mills quickly grabbed the excuse she had formulated for just this occasion: "You really want to know why it was there? Do you remember when we went to the city zoo and saw the tigers? They were batting around these big balls of ice filled with fish heads?"

"Erm...yes, but what-"

"It's called 'enrichment'. The keepers give the tigers something to play with, something to focus on _other_ than the fact that they're in a cage with less square footage than my house. If they don't, the cats get bored. They get depressed and they start tearing things up."

Crane frowned.

"Now," she said looking him square in the face. "You tell me if you want the _Horseman of Death_ to have nothing to occupy his mind other than thoughts of revenge and escape."

"He is our prisoner!" Ichabod repeated adamantly.

"Exactly, and he is just as alone in this world as you were when you first woke up. You had me to help. I got you out and gave you something to do instead of locking you in a cage. He has _nothing _and his only friends hate or want to use him."

"You sound as if you pity him!"

"Yes," she said flatly, in too deep to deny it. "He was your friend once, are you telling me you don't?"

"Perhaps once, _before_ he became a demon on the side of Evil." Crane took a breath, trying to calm himself. "_Pity_ is a dangerous temptation, Leftenant. He would gladly kill us both if given the chance. I do not have to remind you that he killed your Sheriff Corbin."

"No, you _don't_ have to remind me of that," she growled. "But I just...I remember Jenny talking about how sitting in Tarrytown with nothing to do made her start to actually _feel_ crazy."

Ichabod paused. "And these auditory books were supposed to help occupy Abraham's mind?"

"I picked non-fiction and historical stuff. I figured that maybe if he saw how things were, got him invested in the future he helped bring about, he would be less likely to want to destroy it."

"You thought stories about untold death and the horrors of war would be a good choice to make him _invested_?"

"Well, maybe not _that_ book particularly, but I thought he should catch up on what he missed!"

Crane looked scandalized. "How long has this been going on?"

"A month or so," Abbie squirmed under his skeptical glare. "Ok, a couple of months."

"And you did not see fit to tell me of this?"

Guilt made her defensive. "You were busy and I didn't tell you because I knew this was how you would react. You're _leaving_, remember? I need to build some kind of tolerance for Abraham if I'm going to be his babysitter for the rest of my life."

"I see your point," Crane dropped his gaze, but his shoulders were stiff with indignation. "Still, I would have preferred if this had been discussed openly. We are Witnesses in this together, we should not have such secrets between us."

Abbie sighed. "You're right. Next time, I'll bring you a reading list first."

"This is not a matter of books, Miss Mills! Abraham is exceedingly dangerous!"

"I'm aware of that," she snapped in irritation. "And if I didn't, I have all of you to _remind_ me of that fact on a regular basis."

Crane's mouth pinched white at the corners. "I do not say this to belittle your skills of self defense, but I do worry about your safety. I..."

Abbie watched him closely, her brow furrowed.

The scholar wisely decided against continuing his previous line of thought. "I should allow you to return to your duties, Leftenant. Katrina has tasked me with procuring several items from the market and I must not keep her waiting."

"Of course not."

As her friend walked briskly away, Mills stood centered in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The anger and confusion were familiar, but the flares of guilt and relief at watching Ichabod leave were not.

* * *

_**AN:** Thank you all for your awesome reviews and favorites! _

_This month will be not quite so crazy as last, but I will still be in and out of town a bit. There are some missing scenes in the next chapter that will need to be filled in, but I should still make my 8/10 deadline. The reason this chapter came out smoothly was that I had most of it written well in advance and just needed some polishing. From here on out - the chapters are more threadbare and need more work._

_For those of you wondering: yes, I will explain the 'blue marble' comment (probably next chapter)._


	5. Chapter 5

**Winner Takes All - Chapter 5**

_Spoilers up through Season 2 finale, ignores Orion arc so Katrina doesn't free Headless to escape him._

_**AN:**__ Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)_

_Big thanks to my Beta-Readers RS73 and Bittenfeld!_

_**Join Team Brambie!**_

_**facebook/teambrambie**_

* * *

"Come on! You bet me a beer he wouldn't do it."

"I've already paid for that beer and two more besides. It's _your_ turn," Jenny shoved her empty mug at the blond man.

"So cruel, Mills," Hawley lamented with a fake pout, turning to Crane for support.

The scholar barely paid him any mind, blue eyes fixed on the stage where Abbie had picked up the microphone. She was dressed in tight jeans, a crimson tank top and black leather jacket; both alluring and intimidating in the same spotlit moment.

The brandy Crane had downed earlier helped the shakes in his hands, so he reasoned another two or three shots would help even more...

_"The world was on fire and no one can save me but you  
__It's strange what desire will make foolish people do  
__I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you  
__I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you_

_And no, I don't want to fall in love_  
_And no, I don't want to fall in love_

_With you..."_

The melancholy lines hit him like a physical blow and Ichabod's throat burned as he choked suddenly on his drink.

The privateer smacked him on the back with a wry grin. "Easy there, Chief. That top shelf stuff is for real men, it would be embarrassing if I had to put it in a sippy cup for you."

Crane scowled but his gaze was dragged back to the singing woman. Abbie's eyes were closed, shutting out everything save the music and her golden voice.

_"What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you_  
_What a wicked thing to say, to make me feel this way_

_And I don't want to fall in love_  
_And no, I don't want to fall in love_

_With you..."_

The brandy, having gone from his glass once more, urged Crane to call the barkeeper for reinforcements.

The song's lyrics resonated in his mind. He had noticed that the Leftenant often chose songs that had personal meaning, believing that the connection helped give depth to the performance. _Is she singing about someone in particular?_

_Is she singing about...?_

Another shot of liquor followed its brothers down the scholar's throat.

She was cross with him and it hurt more than a thousand needles piercing his heart. It wasn't his fault, Crane reasoned. Abigail was his best friend and partner, he worried for her safety.

Abraham could not be trusted in the slightest. The foul demon was surely preying on the Leftenant's good nature, fooling her with his sedate behavior into believing that the Horseman had been tamed. It was up to Crane to ensure her safety, to show her that he was the...

That he...

The professor scrubbed his face as if that would help order his scattered thoughts.

_It could be me singing those very same verses..._

"Bravo!" Jenny yelled, clapping heartily as Abbie finished her song.

Having been distracted, Ichabod joined in on the congratulations a bit late. He tried to make up for it with exuberance and nearly fell from his bar stool.

Abbie looked at him with a raised brow that cut like a sword. "I think you've maxed out on excitement for tonight, Crane."

"I assure you, madamois'lle," he said as he tried to steady himself by holding onto the mahogany bar. "I am perfectly _capable_ of more..._excitement_."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"How much alcohol have you had so far?"

"I...cannot seem to recall at the moment."

"Don't be too hard on him," Hawley smirked. "Your boy has been a real champ!"

Crane wondered why he had never realized that the privateer was his best friend. A 'good wing man', as Miss Jenny would say.

"So I see," Abbie said dryly. "Well, I should be getting the 'victor' home before he passes out into his trophy."

"An excellent idea!" Ichabod said loudly. "Going home together is-"

He managed to stop his mouth before it made a complete fool of him. However, from the look on his companions' faces, Crane thought he might not have been quite as successful as he had hoped.

To hide his embarrassment, the scholar busied himself with straightening his coat to be more presentable. Looking down, he didn't see the weighted glance that Jenny and Abigail shared.

Like the gentleman he was, Ichabod held out his arm for Abbie and escorted her from the tavern with only the slightest of stumbles.

_The drive to the cabin is long. I will tell Abbie along the way. I will make her understand. I will apologize for my harsh accusations earlier and she will see, she will _understand_. Finally, I will be able to...to..._

Crane was asleep before they had left the parking lot.

* * *

She brought him a stool.

It was a small kindness to be sure, but Abraham wouldn't have traded it for a fully laden treasure galleon. After months of being forced to sleep standing up in the binding chains, even the slightest chance to take the weight off of his feet was like a gift from the gods.

He gazed at Mills curiously as she dragged in two additional stools. He jingled his chains to draw her attention: _Expecting company?_

"Nope," Abbie chuckled. "I thought we should have a movie night."

_Movy?_

"Yep. And it's 'm-o-v-_i-e'_, not 'y'," her grin turned impish. "Prepare to have your mind blown as you watch a true classic of epic quotable proportions!"

After that puzzling declaration, she refused to answer any further questions. Mills simply promised that he would enjoy himself, so Abraham tried to be patient while watching her work.

He could tell she had been drinking. Although Abbie was not inebriated to the state he had seen her in previously, the alcohol had put a sparkle in her eye and a looseness in her joints.

_Pleasant evening?_

"Has been so far! Crane had a bit too much, but I left him at home to sleep it off. I wasn't tired, so...here I am!"

_So you are. And I am happier for it._

Abbie's smile was warm and wide like the sun.

She placed the second stool a short distance away and used it as a table for the folding device she referred to as a 'lap-top'. She pressed a few buttons on the array of tiny lettered squares and music began to drift up into the dusty dungeon air.

The Horseman's confusion quickly turned to amazement as the picture in the silver frame came to life. He motioned distractedly when she asked if he could see everything.

So entranced by the curious sight of a sick child and an old man in the lap-top window, he missed Mills' hesitation when she grabbed the third stool.

After some silent debate, Abbie finally nodded with determination and set the stool directly in front of the Horseman's.

The soft bark of the wooden seats bumping against each other startled Abraham and he tore his gaze from the wonder of modern technology to stare down at the dark-haired beauty.

Abbie squirmed on the stool until she was practically sitting in his lap; her narrow shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh as she leaned back against his chest. Warmth seeped through his clothes where she touched, lighting a fire in his belly that wasn't appropriate for gentle company.

"Don't get any ideas," she mumbled over her shoulder. "I didn't have any chairs with backs on them that were tall enough for you to sit."

The Horseman snorted. _Pleasant evening indeed..._

As the film played, Abbie would occasionally mimic the actors, having clearly memorized the dialog from many earlier viewings. Abraham chuckled as she bounced in her seat during the ridiculous sword-fight, swinging her arms around as if she were wielding her own blade.

He tried to ignore the sensation of her rubbing against his thighs.

Knowing that she would query him on it later, the Horseman wanted to pay attention to the 'movie' she had chosen. But the intoxicating scent of jasmine and honey filled his nose, distracting him further to painfully uncomfortable levels. His shoulders ached with the need to run his hands through her thick hair and across her lithe frame.

The heroes won and the man in black got the princess, but Abraham barely noticed.

Despite all of her earlier excitement, Abbie's exhaustion claimed her in the end.

The Horseman gazed down at Mills as she snored softly against his chest. She had miraculously remained on the stool and even turned in her seat enough to fist tiny hands in his coat. Her expression was peaceful, as if she were home safely in her own bed instead of in the arms of a monster.

_Such a curious thing..._

A noise came from the hallway: light footsteps that just barely registered over the circling music of the idle movie player.

Abraham snapped his attention up in time to see Jenny Mills' shocked face a heartbeat before she screamed: "_ABBIE!_"

"_Wha-_" Mills jumped awake so violently that she pitched backward off of the precarious wooden seat. Abraham could only watch helplessly as she fell, his limbs held tight by the warded shackles.

"_What do you think are you doing?_"

"Clearly, I'm-_shit, that hurt_-trying not to die of a heart-attack! What does it _look_ like?" Abbie hissed as her sister grabbed her elbow, dragging her up off of the stone tiles and away from the agitated Horseman. "Jenny, _stop_!"

"The _Hell_ I will! What if it had been _Crane_ that saw you like this and not me?"

Chains snapped angrily as Abraham fought against the restraints bolted to the wall.

"It's ok!" Abbie called over her shoulder as she was shoved out of the cell. "I'll be fine."

The sound of the dungeon locks slamming closed echoed for a long time.

* * *

When she finally returned, Abbie looked like she had been through a battle.

The Horseman strained forward in his bindings as her reddened eyes found him.

"Hey," she said in a low voice.

_Are you hurt?_

"No more than could be expected, I guess. A bit bruised from your lovely floor though."

_I shall speak with the maid about acquiring a rug._

Abbie snorted.

_Your sister?_

"Angry, as I imagine I would be if I had caught her...well...'cuddling with a Harbinger of Evil' as she called it. It would have been awkward."

_My apologies._

"Why? It's not like you forced me to pass out on you."

_Are you certain?_ Abraham chuckled silently, waggling his chains. _Secret Harbinger of Evil ability._

"Oh yes, I'm sure having sleeping women drooling all over your coat looks quite impressive on the battlefield." Her smile was weaker than he had hoped for, but it still cleared some of the melancholy she had carried in with her.

_Only if the woman was you._

Abbie went still, uncertainty flickering across her face. "You mean that?"

_Why would I not?_

She was quiet a long time before muttering under her breath: "Blue marble."

Abraham frowned. _What is that?_

For a moment, Mills didn't look like she would answer, but then she sighed. "Something that Jenny said: she called you my '_blue marble_'.

"When my sister and I were little kids, I found an abandoned kitten. It was tiny, cold and hungry. _Alone_. Honestly, it looked like a dirty rag, but I stuck it in my backpack and took it home with me.

"Mama was angry, but she let me keep the thing. I gave it a bath, some food and called it 'Moota'*. I told him he would grow big, fat and brave, like his namesake.

"Anyway, Moota was always getting into trouble because he liked to steal things and go places he wasn't allowed. His favorite thing to run off with was a blue glass marble I kept on my desk. The more I took it away from him, the more he went out of his way to steal it. I swear, it was like he knew it made me mad." Abbie chuckled, but the brief humor quickly leaked from her expression.

"While I was at school, Moota choked on the marble and..." Her eyes were distant, looking back on the terrible memory she had sought to put behind her. "I cried for a week. I should have been more careful… Everyone told me it was an accident, but that didn't make it better."

Mills shook herself and focused her attention back on Abraham. "After that, Jenny and I would use _'blue marble'_ as a euphemism for something dangerous that we still found...irresistible."

The Horseman shifted his weight_. Me._

"Yeah," Abbie looked at him sadly. "I guess there's really no point in trying to deny it anymore, is there?"

He was quiet for several minutes. When his hand began to move, the symbols were slow and reluctant:_ Your sister is not wrong._

"I know."

_I do not wish to hurt you. Perhaps it is bes-_

"Don't you dare," anger kindled in her chocolate eyes. "Jenny tried to say the same thing and I'll tell you what I told her: I know that you're dangerous and I shouldn't trust you, but I'm not a child. I _know_ the risks and accept them anyway. _I'll_ determine what is best for me, not you. You think my heart hasn't been broken before?"

_This is dif-_

She grabbed his hand, effectively silencing him by threading her fingers through his. "Just stop," Abbie said in a tight whisper. "It's already too late, you're stuck with me."

Abraham looked down at the beautiful woman, earnest tears shining in her eyes. His hand curled around hers to squeeze softly in mute surrender.

* * *

_**AN:**__ Thank you all for your awesome reviews and favorites! I know this chapter seems short, but they can't all be novels in themselves... However, now that Brambie is really in play, I can start heating things up, *cue evil laughter* XD_

_*Moota - is the purposefully misspelled name of 'Muta', a character from Hayao Miyazaki's "The Cat Returns". Kudos to those who got the reference! If you didn't, go watch the movie - it's adorable, :D Hells, watch _ALL_ of Miyazaki's stuff, you'll be a better person for it!_

_**Inspiration Soundtrack:**  
__"Wicked Game" - London Grammar (cover of the Chris Isaak song)  
"Akta" - Eric Serra (The Fifth Element)_

_The soundtrack suggestions cover the early part of this chapter, I didn't have anything specifically for the 'Movie Night' or the aftermath.  
I do a lot of my writing with music in the background, so check out the song lists whenever I include them to follow along, (YouTube is a great, better yet it's free). Because everyone reads at different speeds (and some songs are too long/short to match the particular scene) - please look at them as a way to set the mood rather than a direct soundtrack to the action (though I do try to keep events pretty consistent with the music)._


	6. Chapter 6

**Winner Takes All - Chapter 6**

_Spoilers up through Season 2 finale, ignores Orion arc so Katrina doesn't free Headless to escape him._

_**AN:**__ Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)_

_Big thanks to my Beta-Readers RS73 and Bittenfeld!_

_**Inspiration Soundtrack: **"Right Behind You" - Penny Dreadful soundtrack (season 1)  
_

_**Join Team Brambie! See the FaceBook page for story news and fan-art!  
facebook/teambrambie**_

* * *

The smoky scent of bacon tickled his nose from under the quilt and roused him from his dreams. Despite the pounding cacophony in his skull, Ichabod couldn't help the smile that crept across his bearded face.

Not wanting to move, but less willing to admit defeat, Crane levered himself from the bed and staggered toward the door. Practically blinded by the sunlight streaming in through the windows, he somehow made it to the cabin's main room without falling on his face.

"Leftenant, that smells heavenly," he said, scrubbing the last of the sleep from his bloodshot eyes. "But, I fear this...'_hang over_'...will steal some of the enjoyment I always take in your cooking."

"Well, then perhaps it is good thing that it is not Miss Mills cooking? We should not want her..._skills_...going to waste."

Crane startled and blinked against the brightness of the kitchen, focusing more closely on the woman at the stove. "Katrina?"

"Yes, husband."

She was still facing away from him, but he was not so far gone that he missed the acidic bite in her tone. "I did not expect to see you here, my love. You had said-"

"I felt the need to be away from the Manor. Spending too many hours looking at the same walls was starting to bring me disquiet." The red haired witch favored him with a smile over her shoulder. "I thought, perhaps, I might surprise you with a true breakfast that does not require a visit to the King of Burgers."

"I see," he said cautiously. "This is, indeed, a pleasant surprise."

The witch seemed slightly mollified, but there was still a tightness about her mouth that meant all was not quiet settled.

"Where is Henry?"

"Our _son_ is seeking the heart of a d'jinn. The creature has abilities that will assist in parting the threads of time and is crucial to the Traveller's final stage."

"Ah." Trying not to fidget in his seat, Ichabod felt the strained silence between them deepen. "How are the other spell preparations proceeding?"

"Quite well," she said. "I should expect the last components to be in place within the month."

"That is good news."

Katrina stopped scraping the pan and turned to face him. "Is it?"

"What do you mean?"

The red haired woman stared at Crane, as if she were reading the secrets on the inside of his skull.

He sincerely hoped she couldn't.

"It is just...you do not seem quite so eager as you once were. Do you not wish to return home?"

"Of course I do!" Ichabod swept across the room and wrapped his wife in a tight embrace. He kissed her on the top of her head, whispering: "I wish for us to be happy, I swear."

She was rigid for a moment longer, but then she melted into his embrace. "I am relieved to hear that."

"Have I given you reason to doubt me?"

"It was a moment's foolish fear, pay it no mind."

"I love you, Katrina," he said, willing her to believe him. "Everything will go perfectly, of that I have no doubt."

As he watched his wife turn back to the crackling bacon, Crane hoped that he could make himself believe it too.

* * *

_Dark Magic_, Abraham had suggested.

Abbie looked at the deep gashes in the corpse's wrinkled skin. _Magic or not, whatever it was had Freddie Kruger fingers._

Even with the flashing colored lights of the patrol cars, she could tell the man was pale under the caked on dirt and grime. He had been bundled up with everything he owned, whether it was to protect against theft or the creeping chill in the air, Mills would never know. The shredded cloth was stained with gore from over a dozen deep wounds that had let the nameless man's life bleed out onto the street.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Lieutenant Mills?" one of the officers called from the tape line.

Turning away from the gruesome scene, Abbie made her way to the milling cluster of city policemen. She silently noted that even the veteran cops looked slightly green.

"Lieutenant? They, uh...they say you're good with the weird, uh, _stuff_," a rookie mumbled, his eyes darting around but never close enough to where the body lay prone behind them.

"I guess so. What is it," Mills frowned as she looked at his name tag. "Officer Anders?"

"Ma'am, I think...I think we have a witness, but she doesn't want to talk to us."

"Where?"

He pointed over to a woman officer trying unsuccessfully to give a cup of coffee to a lump of dark clothing.

"Thanks," she muttered. "I'll see if I can get anything."

A chill breeze cut through Mills' light jacket, making her shiver as she crossed the pavement. _At least it isn't snowing yet..._

"I'll take it from here, Jeffries."

The other uniform looked up at the detective and nodded, more than happy to return to the safety of the tape line.

Mills leaned down, trying to get a better look at the witness. "My name is Lieutenant Mills, I'm with the Sheriff's office. I'm here to catch this thing, to stop it from killing people. But I need your help. I need to know if you, or anyone else, saw something that can tell me what I'm looking for."

The lump stayed stubbornly silent.

"Ok," Abbie said patiently, holding out her hand. "How about we just start with names? I'm Abbie."

Part of the cloth bundle moved, shifting to focus on the petite woman. Slowly, a threadbare mitten reached back. "Susan."

"I wish we could be meeting under better circumstances, Susan."

"Yeah."

"Please, I really need to know if you saw what happened to that man. Did you see if they were short, tall, a man or a woman? Anything could be helpful."

There were several minutes of tense quiet before: "Weren't no man."

"No?"

The homeless woman shuddered so hard the leaves crinkled under her feet.

"Did you recognize them?" Abbie prompted gently. "Was it a woman?"

Susan gave her a withering glare. "Weren't no woman could t'row down Sticks. He was in th' _Gulf_."

"If it wasn't a man or a woman, what was it?"

Chapped lips pinched tight in a frown and the older woman shook her head. "You think I be nuts."

"Trust me, I've seen crazy. I don't think that's what is going on here," Mills grimaced. "I will believe you."

"No."

Trying not to give in to frustration, Abbie tried a different tactic. "Did it have long claws?"

Susan froze.

"It must have been fast too. Sticks was a strong man, it had to take him down before he saw it. Am I right?"

The homeless woman flicked her a panicked glance. "I...I didn't see it come out th' woods...it was just _there_."

"Did it make any noise? Did it say anything?"

Susan whimpered. "It growled, like a pissed off cat. It...it..._oh sweet Jesus, have mercy_..."

"Please," Abbie tried to grasp the frightened woman's shoulders. "Please tell me what you saw!"

"A monster! Skin like a white trash bag, stretched over nothin' but bones and-and-_red_ eyes!" Tears flowed down Susan's cheeks as she started to rock back and forth in terror, muttering the Lord's prayer under her breath.

The other officers had turned at the noise, but Abbie waved them away. "I'm here for you Susan, we'll keep you safe."

"Lieutenant!"

Mills glanced over and saw that Sheriff Reyes had arrived at the scene.

"Just a moment," she called before turning back to the traumatized witness. "Susan, I want you to ride back to the station with one of my officers. They'll give you something to eat and a safe place to stay."

"I ain't crazy!"

"I know you're not. I would love more than anything to tell you that monsters aren't real, but they are. I'm sorry that you've had to meet one, but I'm glad you weren't hurt."

"You...you...?"

"Yeah, I've seen them too," Abbie said patting the woman's shoulder. "And trust me when I say: I can _kill_ them."

Relief and wonder filled Susan's gaze as she watched Mills for any sign of deception. "It...it said one...one thing..."

Abbie's attention sharpened. "What did it say?"

"Was hard t' hear, but I think...I think it said somethin' like...'_Marback_'."

"'Marback?"

"Yeah, it hissed and..and then it...it went for Sticks..."

"It's ok, Susan. We'll keep you somewhere safe until I can catch it. Just, if you think of anything else...?"

"Yeah," the woman nodded.

Mills called over Officer Jeffries once more and gave her instructions to take care of the homeless woman.

After setting her shoulders, Abbie turned and made her way to the waiting Sheriff.

"You wanted to see me, ma'am?"

Reyes took in the scene with a grim expression. "What's the situation?"

"Another homeless man, Mr. Sticks as he was called, was found this morning. Similar MO as the previous deaths: scratched up, prematurely aged, the works."

"Similar?"

"This time the victim was cut up bad enough for him to bleed out."

"He's escalating," Reyes frowned. "That makes three in the last two weeks."

"Yes, ma'am."

"The bastard is on a roll. I want the sick son of a bitch caught, Mills. Tell me you have some good news?"

"Some white hairs were found on the body and sent to the lab, results aren't back yet. We have a witness, but she's...too shaken up to be coherent at the moment. All we really know is that the victims were all in an area known as The Hovel, sort of a homeless gathering place. Most of the others still living there don't want to talk to us, too scared or distrustful of the police. I've been checking with the local businesses to see if any of them have security cameras that cover the streets in the area, but so far it's a bust."

"Damn."

"I…was going to suggest a possible stakeout or maybe undercover operation—"

"No," Reyes shook her head. "We don't have the man-power to have a unit parked for days on end, _hoping_ that something will show up. We need more to go on. Find more evidence and I'll put a TAC team together to take the beast down."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Have you talked to the history consultant? What's his name...Crane? Has he seen something like this before?"

"No, but he's still researching the county records."

"Fine." The sheriff sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose to dislodge a migraine. "The streets are going to be filled with thousands of people for the Founders' Festival in a few weeks and we're in the middle of a murder spree. There are far too many strange deaths in this place, Mills. This was a _nice_ town when I was growing up, what the hell has been happening lately?"

Abbie bit her lip hard enough to bleed. She wanted to bring Reyes in on the true story of Sleepy Hollow, but the memory of Sheriff Corbin and Captain Irving's lifeless bodies stopped her cold. She didn't want to be responsible for the death of another good cop. "I wish I knew."

* * *

"Katrina?" Abraham felt his shoulders tense as the witch walked into the dungeon. The magic of Henry's pendant tingled along his skin, like the prickle of lightning in the air before it struck. "I had not thought to see you here."

She paused. "You are the second man to say that very same thing to me. It seems I come as a surprise to everyone today."

"It would not be the first time you have been thus," he said venomously. "I once thought you a fine and honorable woman, yet you were in truth a lying-"

"Come now, we should not quarrel when our time is so short."

"Short? I wish you to be _gone_. I have no stomach for the sight of you!"

"Is that a fact? I remember how, in days past, you wanted me by your side to the exclusion of all others."

"My feelings have changed."

"Clearly," her green eyes narrowed. "Though I would like to honor your _request_ and leave so I may attend to my other duties, I am here to meet Miss Mills."

As if the name were a summons, the lady in question appeared in the dungeon window. Abbie looked tired, the weight of her work day telegraphed in the slump of her shoulders, yet she smiled the moment she saw him.

Abraham tried not to react, but months of not having to school his expression made him forgetful and he smiled in return.

The witch missed nothing.

"So, why am I here again?" Abbie said too casually.

Katrina frowned, but seemed to shake whatever was nagging her after a brief moment. "When Ichabod and I return to our own epoch, things may not proceed as planned. We must prepare for any eventuality, even one so dire as our complete failure...You may need to act as caretaker of Abraham until a way can be found to strip away the avatar of Death."

"Caretaker?"

"When magic is dormant, it can remain powerful. However, when it is used," Katrina ran her hands over the chains at Abraham's wrists, making him flinch when her fingers grazed his skin. "It expends the energy that was woven into it. The pendant I wear, it must be infused with fresh magic periodically or the enchantment will fade." With a pointed glance, she continued: "Without it, we would not be able to see Abraham as he is now."

"Perish the thought." Abbie bit her lip, feeling the weight of the Horseman's crystal blue eyes upon her. Academically, she knew that Abraham had been looking at her for months, but being able to _see_ the path of his gaze made it an altogether different sensation.

He smirked as he saw a blush start to crawl up her neck.

"Stop that."

"What?"

"You're looking at me."

"Of course."

"Don't."

"Why should I not?"

"Because it's weird."

"Weird?"

"Yeah, it's just...it's just weird, ok?" Abbie huffed with embarrassment.

Abraham's smirk grew into a leer.

"You know, we can come back and do this at a time while you're asleep!"

"That would be rather unfortunate."

"Well, at least we wouldn't have to deal with a peanut gallery with pervy vision!"

The puzzled frown on the Horseman's face blew out her anger in a gust of laughter. "Don't do that either, I need to concentrate or I could probably blow us all to the moon-"

"Are the two of you quite finished?" Katrina cut in, her rigid expression like carved ice.

Abbie looked abashed. "Yes."

"These lessons must be taken seriously. Many untrained witches died from tapping into magic they did not fully understand. Having said that," Katrina sniffed. "Your ancestors were spiritualists rather than witches. The spells you may achieve would not have the potency to...cause such an explosion."

"Guess you're in luck," Mills pointed at Abraham with a scolding finger.

"I will teach you what is required to strengthen the bindings and reinforce the wards on the cell entrance. These rituals must be repeated exactly every few months. With your untrained skills, it would be best to perform the rites more frequently. Perhaps once a month?"

"That much? I might as well move in here," Abbie grumbled, missing how the Horseman's lip twitched at the idea.

"Or, perhaps, you could simply release me," he said smoothly, his voice like the honey of his hair. "Then you would not have to learn this foolishness at all."

"Yeah, right. You're not so lucky as all that."

"I imagine such a thing would depend on your interpretation of 'luck'."

"No interpretation would be close enough to what you would need for early parole-"

"Enough," Katrina said tightly, her lips pinched with displeasure. She gave the pair a long look: taking in Abbie's flushed cheeks and Abraham's belligerent glare. "Miss Mills will need to focus on this ritual if it is to be completed successfully. If the runes are not activated in the proper order, they may expel their magic all in one moment and cause everyone in the vicinity great harm. _Including_ you," the witch warned Abraham.

With that, the pair settled and Abbie was able to repeat the enchantment correctly within a dozen tries. By the end of the second hour, she called a halt due to exhaustion and agreed to practice on her own while Katrina returned to Fredrick's Manor.

The witch collected a stack of hand-written notes she had brought with her and paused thoughtfully before tucking them away in her cloak.

"Where those for me?" Mills asked.

The sudden stiffness in Katrina's expression that was difficult to identify. "They were, but I fear we do not have the time for a proper apprenticeship. These spells are...much too powerful for a novice such as yourself to control. I fear they would do more harm than good."

"Oh," Abbie said, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "I...well, should we meet again to practice? I mean, how am I to get better if-"

"Of course. Perhaps next Sabbath, I may be able to spare time away from the Manor." The witch nodded and left the dungeon with only a brief final glance at the bound Horseman.

"What bee got in her bonnet, I wonder?" Abbie mumbled after the cell door clanged shut.

* * *

Henry watched his mother pace back and forth, hiding a faint smile behind his wrinkled hand.

She had been in a fury nearly as red as her hair since she had returned from the dungeon. He had a few guesses as to why.

When the plan had formed in his mind so many months earlier, Henry could not have predicted that it would have worked quite so well. A word here, a comment there, it all nurtured the seeds of doubt that grew through Katrina's heart like a poisonous vine.

Henry also had not expected to have _help_. He made a mental note to thank Abigail Mills for her unwitting role in his parents' destruction.

_A pity that none of them will realize what is truly going on until it is too late. Pestilence would have appreciated the spectacle..._

Katrina was still wearing holes in the Oriental rug, too consumed by her own thoughts to notice her son's avid gaze.

Envy, Vanity, Pride and Wrath; the former Horseman rolled the potent mix of his mother's sins on his tongue like candy.

"This is intolerable! Deceitful, conniving-" Katrina's cheeks were flushed as she stomped in a tight circle before the fireplace. "I would not have imagined it! But to witness it for _myself_..."

A bushy brow rose in slight surprise. Henry had previously thought her suspicions were simply an over-active imagination spurred on by his subtle influence. But if Ichabod was truly showing interest in another woman...

"Two hundred years I waited in Purgatory for my husband. _Two hundred years_ my loyalty was unwavering. Time after time, I saved your father's life: from the Horseman, from Moloch, even from my own _coven_! And _yet_, this is how I am to be repaid? Ichabod is awakened in this strange time for less than a year and this...this...pitch-skinned _harlot_ turns him from his vows?" Tears sparkled down Katrina's cheeks as her lips twisted in a feral grimace. "_Then_, if it were not enough that she has designs on my _husband_, she has ensnared _Abraham_ as well? The _way_ that they spoke to one another! So _familiar_, so..._intimate_..."

Another jolt of surprise hit the elderly warlock. He filed the observation away for further study once the current situation had been handled. There was surely something useful in the scrap of knowledge that could be exploited...

"No doubt _Miss_ Mills is seeking a greater challenge now that my husband is under her spell! Is there is no limit to her _shame_?"

"Perhaps she-"

"No! Ichabod is mine! Abraham was mine! I will _not_ lose to a-a-_an amoral hussy!_"

Henry frowned slightly. As amusing as it was to see the witch in such distress, she was winding herself up into a state that could be beneficial to his final plans and also potentially disastrous if her energy was not channeled properly.

"You are right, Mother," he said placatingly. "Lieutenant Mills has become...troublesome. If what you say is true, and Father has been ensnared by her charms, then returning to the past could serve only to heighten his desire. There is a modern expression that states: 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder.'" Henry's black eyes sparkled with hidden malice. "However, if she were to die..."

"Die?" Katrina stopped, her fury dampened by shock. "No. No, that would only serve to make her a martyr in his eyes, _a saint_. She is a Witness in the final battle, I do not know if she even _can_ be killed."

"Everyone can be killed," The former Horseman said, his voice as deep as the Pit itself. After a moment he softened once more, lacing his tone with compassion he did not feel: "It pains me to see you this way. Perhaps...if we were to enact the contingency we discussed not long ago...we can find a solution in the new world of our making?"

Green eyes met black, considering.

"Yes, Jeremy," the witch said slowly. "Perhaps we can."

* * *

_**AN:**__ I live on reviews, yay! Thank you all!_

_I wish I had been able to go to Dragon-Con and see the Sleepy Hollow cast, but I will have to survive on grainy photos and daydreams..._

_I planned to do a double-post this month in honor of the season premier, but I don't know if I'll get the extra chapter done in time (cross your fingers)._

_There is a link to the 'Team Brambie' shirt I designed on the FaceBook page if anyone is interested. I am not doing it for profits (I actually get only a tiny fraction of the listed cost - sometimes it's just pennies), I'm doing this for the fuzzy feeling of seeing other people who like my art, :)_


	7. Chapter 7

**Winner Takes All - Chapter 7**

_Spoilers up through Season 2 finale, ignores Orion arc so Katrina doesn't free Headless to escape him._

_**AN:**__ Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)_

_Big thanks to my Beta-Readers RS73 and Bittenfeld!_

_**Inspiration Soundtrack: **"I Paid the Iron Price" - Game of Thrones soundtrack (season 3)  
_

_**Join Team Brambie! See the FaceBook page for story news and fan-art!  
facebook/teambrambie**_

* * *

A restlessness disturbingly akin to concern began to coil in Abraham's gut.

Abbie had not been to the dungeon since her lesson with Katrina.

For the entire month prior, the slender leftenant had visited nearly every second or third day.

Now she was a week overdue.

He went back through their last conversation and found no reason for her to be cross with him. The banter they had shared seemed mutual and he could not help how satisfying it felt to drive Mills to distraction. Had he been wrong to take such liberties?

At the time it had been worth it to see her blush, but now he was unsure...

Would she have left without offering so much as an explanation?

Perhaps her duties as an officer of the law were keeping her away longer than usual. The case of mysterious destitute murders had been weighing heavily on her mind for weeks. She had been slow to share the details at first, but later they traded theories as to what sort of monster could be perpetrating the crimes. Abraham did not know the true form of the beast, but he was certain it was demonic in nature. The hallmark signs of an infernal being were clear from the color images Mills had shown him.

Frustration mounted as the Horseman felt the endless quiet seep into his bones. Had something happened? Had she gone after the creature on her own? Had she been hurt?

How many days had it been now?

Was the Traveller spell finished? Had everyone forgotten him in the excitement?

Had something gone wrong and the spell snatched them all to the past?

Maddening questions circled endlessly and the Horseman jerked at his shackles to scrape the skin. The momentary pain helped clear his mind, giving him something real to focus on aside from the building sense of panic.

It was nearly a fortnight after Mill's disappearance when the enchantment of Katrina's pendant finally rolled over him. Fury surged through his veins and Abraham opened his mouth to vent his frustration upon his former fiancée.

But it was Abbie who limped into the cell, not the red haired witch.

Caught off-guard, the Horseman felt the angry words die in his throat. His relief at seeing Mills swept all other thoughts aside, but not so far that he failed to notice how she seemed worse for wear. "What happened?"

She looked everywhere but at Abraham, as if afraid to meet his gaze.

Suddenly, he knew the answer before she said anything at all. "Katrina is dead."

"I...uh," She chewed her lip, stalling. "I'm sorry, but there's no easy way to say it...but yeah, Katrina is...I'm...I'm sorry for your loss, Abraham."

The Horseman stared, his mind that had been so full was suddenly blank. "How?"

"She turned on us. Apparently, she and Henry spent too much time talking together while setting up the Traveller spell. They...came up with an idea they thought was better than going back in time. I don't know, they said something about starting their own coven here, to 'set things right'. It looked like they planned on making everyone in Sleepy Hollow a witch."

Abraham thought about it. Given War's lust for power and vengeance, no matter the cost, it sounded exactly like something he would attempt.

"They tied us up, but were sloppy in checking for weapons. I shot Henry and Katrina went crazy. She...she attacked me."

"You are injured."

"Just banged up a bit. Doctors tried to keep me on bed rest for the leg," Mills shook her head. "I'm fine."

Abraham was glad, but at the same time he felt like the world was spinning the wrong direction. The cottony fog of shock burned away and new thoughts filled his mind.

Katrina was _dead_. Despite everything that had gone wrong between them and how terrible things had become in their final days together, part of Abraham had still cared for the witch. She had been his whole reason for becoming a Horseman, for accepting Moloch's offer for revenge. She had been the goal of everything that he had done and fought for over two hundred and fifty years...

_And now she was gone._

Bands of iron tightened around his heart, but the horrible anguish he had expected to feel was surprisingly absent.

Blue eyes locked with brown.

_Perhaps it is not so surprising after all._

Abbie looked miserable. "I really am sorry for your loss."

"I...do not hold you responsible for this," Abraham wished he could wipe away some of the tears that threatened to fall, humbled that she would cry for him. "Please believe me, Leftenant."

She nodded, still not wholly convinced.

"What of Ichabod?"

Mills tensed.

"Leftenant?"

Her uncomfortable silence grew and made the Horseman frown, he didn't like the sudden fear that spiked through her eyes.

"He...Crane isn't taking it well."

"I would be offended if he did, but there is more you are not saying."

She squirmed, biting her lip. "I should leave and let you-"

"_Tell me_," he demanded.

Abbie held out a few more moments, but his steady glare finally broke her resolve and the words came out in a rush: "Crane stabbed her! I killed Henry and she-she was _choking_ me and I would have died if he hadn't taken her out first!"

He blinked.

The idea was preposterous. Abraham waited for her to continue, but she kept her head down and fidgeted nervously.

_Ichabod_ killed Katrina?

War was dead as well?

"I'm _sorry_," she said again with heartfelt sincerity.

Surprise had made the chaos in his head pause, but now the maelstrom was back with a vengeance. Jumping from one notion to the next, the Horseman's mind refused to settle: Katrina was dead, but Mills was alive. _Ichabod_ killed one to save the other. War was defeated. Katrina had tried to _kill_ Abigail. Henry was _dead_ and the chance of escape gone with him. Abigail was safe.

_War is not coming..._

As remote as it had been, Abraham was surprised to find he had still harbored hope that his compatriots would devise a way to rescue him from the warded dungeon. He had waited patiently, imagining that it was simply a matter of time and opportunity before they arrived. But now...

It was as if the tragedy was a giant rose, opening wide to reveal new petals stained with devastation and despair. It was too much.

"Please leave."

"Abra-"

"_Just go_," he said harshly.

Mills nodded, wiping her nose to hide a sniffle. "Fine. I'll check in on you later."

She was nearly to the door when she heard him whisper: "Thank you."

* * *

Another week passed before Abbie came back, trailing Crane behind her like a lost puppy.

Anger was whiplash quick through Abraham's blood, but seeing the look of utter desolation on his old friend's face brought no comfort.

The two men stared at each other through the power of their dead lover's necklace, seeming forever destined to have their fates entwined.

"Have you come to beg my forgiveness?" the Horseman growled.

"I...Katrina...died because of me," Ichabod started in a brittle voice. "In my mind, I see it happen again and again...I find myself wondering what could I have done differently. What if I had not..."

"If you had not taken her from me? Had not married her? Had not _abandoned_ her?"

Each accusation struck Crane like a blow, but there was little enjoyment in it for the Horseman.

"_If you had not killed her?_"

"Abraham," Mills said with mild reproach.

"I will hate you for the things you have done, Ichabod," he continued in a softer tone. "But, Katrina's death was of her own making."

The professor flinched once more.

"She sealed her fate when she sided with War. That you were the one to strike her down will be a fitting punishment you shall have to carry. Had our positions been reversed..." Abraham's gaze found Abbie's. "I am not sure that I would not have done the same."

Ichabod's shoulders trembled with silent tears, too miserable to notice the subtle byplay between the others in the room. "I am sorry-"

"As you should be." Old anger was hard to let go. "Now leave."

Mills frowned as she took Crane's arm to guide him out of the cell.

Chain clinked twice quietly, stopping her.

Abbie's frown deepened, but she tried to hide it from her fellow Witness. "Crane, I just remembered something. I saw a book on curses in the archive we might need later. Can you find it for me and wait by the car? I'll be out shortly."

"Leftenant?"

"I'll be fine, I just want to check the bindings since...well...you know..."

"I should stay-"

"I'll be _fine_. But, we need the book. So it's better if we divide and conquer. Ok?"

Nodding absently, Ichabod shuffled down the hall toward the exit.

When he was gone, she rounded on Abraham. "That was cruel."

The Horseman's eyes narrowed. "And true."

"Look, I know that you're hurting too, but kicking a man while he's down doesn't help."

"Pray, tell me, what _would_ help?" he demanded harshly.

Mills frowned harder at his tone, but put her own irritation aside since she wasn't the one he was really angry with.

"Single malt?" Abbie sighed, shaking her head. "If I knew the answer, part of me wouldn't still be angry with you for Corbin's death."

Abraham took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. "I apologize. It seems we all have our demons."

"Some of us quite literally." The Leftenant regarded him for several moments, worry flickering across her brow. "You know that I'm here for you, right? I know what it's like to lose people you care about. You don't have to go through this alone."

He nodded, his throat tight with phantom pain. "I thank you for your kindness. Katrina...I will miss her, but she was no longer the woman that I loved. That she tried to harm you...perhaps it is best that events unfolded as they did."

"I'll admit that she wasn't my favorite person at times, but I didn't want her to die. I would have saved her if I could."

"I know," Abraham said, his expression softening. "You are a true hero, Leftenant Mills. I would have expected nothing less."

A moment passed in calm silence before Abbie remembered herself and broke his gaze. "I almost forgot. I meant to return this to you when I was here before."

Katrina's emerald pendant spun on its chain, catching and splintering the false sunlight into shards of green fire.

Abraham ignored the residual snag in his heart and shook his head. "Keep it."

"But-"

"The enchantment continues to work, it will make things...easier for us."

"Oh," Mills traced her thumb across the stone, still conflicted. "Are you sure?"

"I once gave it to the woman who held my heart," Abraham said quietly, a sad smile ghosting across his lips. "It seems Fate would have me do so again."

It took a moment for the meaning of his words to register and Mills stared at him, her mouth slack with surprise.

"Abigail," he leaned down as far as his bindings would allow, blue eyes holding hers captive. "You deserve something as unique and beautiful as you are, yet I am a prisoner and have few possessions in this world. Would you honor me by wearing this until...well, I am somehow able to find a gift more suitable?"

Still speechless, Mills managed to unstick her joints after several false starts and slip the chain around her neck. The green stone settled over her heart and she gasped as the pendant's enchantment wound through her limbs like a double shot of grain alcohol.

"Shit! That felt weird as hell," she breathed. Still a little dizzy, she looked up at him with wide eyes. "So...are you saying...?"

A faint smirk curled his lip as he chuckled. "Were I whole, I would attempt to kiss you to prove my honesty. But I fear I must ask you to simply trust my word."

Her blush drew his smile wider. Abbie glanced out the cell door to make sure they were alone and then stepped forward.

Abraham felt Mills tuck herself against his chest, her small hands wrapped over his shoulders as if to embrace him. "That's the first time I've heard you say my name."

"I hope to say it many more times, _my Abigail_..."

* * *

_**AN:**__ This story truly has become the 'most' at everything I've ever written (except for 'favorited' - 'WTA' is still a few short behind 'Greener'), and I've only posted about half of what I have so far.  
__Since October is the best month ever, I think I'm going to celebrate by doing a double posting! Depending on how much I can get done, there may be other surprise Halloween goodies planned..._

_I've gotten several beta-reader requests, so juggling my duties to those writers and keeping up with my own schedule is going to be rough - but sleep is for the weak, it is known! _

_As always, I live on reviews! Thank you all for making Brambie great! _


	8. Chapter 8

**Winner Takes All - Chapter 8**

_Spoilers up through Season 2 finale, ignores Orion arc so Katrina doesn't free Headless to escape him._

_**AN:**__ Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)_

_Big thanks to my Beta-Readers RS73 and Bittenfeld!_

_**Inspiration Soundtrack: **_

_"Anywhere" - Evanescence_

_"Lost Signal" - Transformers 3 soundtrack_

_**Join Team Brambie! See the FaceBook page for story news and fan-art!  
facebook/teambrambie**_

* * *

"I can't believe that."

"I speak the truth."

"You are _not_ going to convince me that _you_, Mr.-Proper-Van-Brunt, spent the night in a chicken coop!"

The Horseman smiled ruefully. "I will admit that I was quite drunk that evening. Fearing what my father would say, I sought to avoid being seen creeping into the manor like a common thief."

"And you thought that getting bird crap all over you was a better alternative to getting yelled at?"

"It seemed a fair trade at the time."

Mills' laughter filled the stone dungeon, lifting some of the gloom that had settled in since Katrina's death.

He loved seeing her like this: her head thrown back, joyous and vibrant with tears of mirth streaking her cheeks.

Lately, Ichabod had taken to keeping her close, as if afraid to let Mills out of his sight for even a moment. The constant strain of keeping up appearances was wearing on her nerves, and Abraham felt her tension as keenly as if it were his own.

Despite the risks, she still visited him as often as she could, bringing with her a warmth he had begun to crave.

The Horseman didn't care if Crane knew about the unusual relationship blooming under his very nose. But, Abbie had been adamant that it remain a secret, fearing that it would further upset Ichabod's delicate emotional state further.

The slow creep of jealousy in Abraham's heart felt so familiar it was almost like an old friend...only this time it seemed stronger than ever.

He shook off the dark thoughts and smiled as Mills continued to giggle, determined to not let precious hours spent with her go to waste.

The radio played in the background and Abbie sang as had become her habit while working in the dungeon.

_"Dear my Love haven't you wanted to be with me and  
Dear my Love, haven't you longed to be free  
__I can't keep pretending that I don't even know you and  
__At sweet night, you are my own..."_

Her voice faltered into silence. The song was one that Mills had performed a dozen times, but suddenly the lyrics took on a different meaning.

Something more profound.

Abraham sensed the change in Abbie as she stared at him through the armored glass. Her expression was unsettled, but the subtle twitch of her lips gave him a clue as to what was wrong.

He listened.

And he knew.

_I have dreamt of a place for you and I  
No one knows who we are there  
All I want is to give my life only to you  
I've dreamt so long, I cannot dream anymore  
Let's run away, I'll take you there_

The Horseman's eyes locked with hers, a world of unspoken thoughts swirling in their clear blue depths. Abbie's heart constricted painfully, making her own vision blur with unshed tears.

_We're leaving here tonight  
There's no need to tell anyone  
They'd only hold us down  
So by the morning's light  
We'll be halfway to anywhere  
Where Love is more than just your name_

Chains clanked as Abraham leaned forward. "Abigail…" he called softly.

She wanted to believe it would be that easy, that they could be ordinary people somewhere far away from the schemes of angels and devils. Her gaze fell to the generator switch. A flick of her wrist and the UV lights would blink out, releasing Abraham from their oppressive glare. The warded chains would only hold for a short while after and then her Horseman would be free...

_Free to do what exactly?_

Abbie looked back through the glass, to the blond man who waited patiently for her to decide their fate.

_Her_ Horseman...

"Leftenant?"

Mills jumped, shoving her hands deep into her pockets as if they held evidence of her guilty thoughts.

"Miss Jenny and I are about to order take-away from your favorite Asian cuisine establishment. I wished to see if you were famished as well," Crane said as his long legs carried him quickly down the dungeon corridor to the viewing room.

"No thanks," Abbie replied with an overly bright smile. "I had a late lunch, so I'm good."

"Are you quite sure?"

"Yep, I'm fine."

Concern was writ large across Ichabod's face as he cast a frown toward the scowling Horseman. "Leftenant, you do not have to spend so much time here. I assure you that the Masons were excellent craftsmen and spared no detail when constructing this prison. Abraham is in no danger of escaping."

Abbie prayed that Crane didn't see her flinch. "I know," she answered. "But, it's quieter here. I feel like I can get more done than at my office. You know?"

"Quieter?" Crane quirked a brow and made a significant glance at the enchanted emerald around her neck.

"Comparatively," Abbie allowed with a wry smile. "Abraham knows how to be a gentleman, unlike some of the cops in my precinct."

"A _gentleman_," Ichabod looked like he had swallowed a bug. "I wonder if you would excuse me for a moment, Miss Mills. I believe I should have a private talk with the _gentleman_ while I am here."

Concern flickered between her brows as she shared a glance with the Horseman in question. His answering nod was barely perceptible.

Unhappily, she watched Crane go into Abraham's cell alone. The range of the enchanted pendant allowed the two men to speak, but their voices were so low they were inaudible to her inside the viewing room.

Abbie chewed her lip as she watched the Horseman's expression shift from curious to annoyed. Anger set his shoulders in a rigid line and he hissed something that rocked Crane back on his heels. The scholar recovered quickly and poked Abraham in the chest before stalking away.

"It changes nothing, Ichabod," the Horseman called after him.

"We shall see."

Unable to contain herself, Abbie practically bounced off of her stool to intercept Crane as he locked the cell door.

"What was that about?"

"A private matter, do not concern yourself."

She frowned. "Hey, we're supposed to be working together to save the world!"

"It has nothing to do with the world and everything to do with-" Crane's mouth snapped shut.

"With what?"

"I think we should focus our attention on the monster that is preying on the destitute persons-"

"Crane!"

_"Leftenant!"_ he barked.

Distantly, she heard Abraham growl and snap his chains tight. Abbie's patience with the moodiness of the Revolutionary War men in her life was nearly spent, but she tamped down on her own irritation once more.

Crane was clearly still dealing with unresolved grief, and she forced herself to cut him some slack because of it. "Fine."

The scholar took a moment to gather himself and then pulled out a scroll from his jacket pocket. "I have written down the dates and locations of the attacks and have narrowed our field of search to these areas. I have also examined the white hairs you so kindly provided and I believe that we are dealing with a most fearsome creature: a wight."

"A wight?" Abbie frowned. "Is that like a ghost with a lisp?"

"This is no laughing matter, Leftenant. They are inhumanly fast with terrible claws."

"Which would explain why our DBs all looked sliced up, but not why they looked old."

"That is the secondary power of their touch," Crane held up an inked drawing of a skeletal man curled up in terror. "A wight can kill by merely touching their victim, draining their life away through their skin."

"Great," Mills pinched the bridge of her nose. "That's just perfect."

"Indeed."

"Did any of your reading say how to kill one?"

"It is said that they loathe fire. I have taken the liberty of contacting Mr. Hawley and he claimed to have something that would help."

"How soon?"

"Tomorrow, by late afternoon."

"Sounds good, that will give me time to...sort a few other things out."

Crane looked suspicious for a moment, but let it pass without further comment as he followed her down the tunnel to the main archives.

* * *

"I thought wights were vulnerable to fire, what went wrong?" Jenny fumbled for her phone while careening down the deserted streets of Sleepy Hollow. With one hand, she hit the button to speed dial Hawley's number.

"I do not know." Tension made Crane's voice tight. "The texts were specific that flames were necessary to bring about the creature's destruction."

"Really?" Jenny's brow arched "Because it looked more _annoyed_ than _destroyed_ to me."

"Agreed, though I never would have imagined anything could have withstood the flame cannon Mr. Hawley provided." Ichabod bit his lip. "How is your arm?"

"Damn it, he's not answering. _Your shit didn't work, Hawley! Call me!_" she growled into the phone before hanging up. Jenny saw the scholar's concerned glance and tried to cover up the blistered skin with her sleeve. "It's fine."

A frown illustrated his disbelief. "You were very fortunate that the creature did not get a firmer grip."

"Yeah, lucky me," she muttered. "How are we even supposed to get close enough to kill that thing?"

"I do not know." Crane's long fingered hands fidgeted with his beard.

"Well, we better think of something quick!"

"I am well aware of the price of failure!"

Jenny scowled, her hands tightening on the steering wheel, trying to burn off some of her agitation. Suddenly she paused. "I've got an idea, but you're not going to like it."

Concern knitted Ichabod's brow as he waited for her to continue.

"The Horseman."

It took a moment for him to understand what she was suggesting. "Out of the question!"

"Why not? You tricked him into killing a gorgon just because it was in your way. How is this any different?"

"That was because Abraham _also_ wanted the Sword of Methuselah that the creature was protecting! If we set him free from his prison, he will ride away to resume his plan to bring about the Apocalypse. What _possible_ motivation could he have to help us?"

An odd expression flickered over Jenny's face, but she didn't give voice to what it meant. "I think he might surprise you."

Crane scoffed, shaking his head. "He is a murderer, I will not-"

"Unless you're holding back on me in the mystical weapons department, I don't see how we have another choice!"

"Releasing the Horseman of Death _is no choice_. Your sister would agree with me!"

"Maybe, but we can argue about that _after_ she's safe."

* * *

The sun still had not set when he roused to angry voices coming down the hall. Annoyance and curiosity were sluggish in his veins as he picked out Crane's baritone and the sharp bite of Abbie's sister.

"…is ill advised! You do not know Abraham as I do!"

"We've wasted too much time already! I'm not waiting any longer." The Mills women shared the same warrior spirit. It made Abraham smile.

Crane was less amused. "If you do this, you could undo all of the good that we have done. She would not want us to—"

"_Listen_ to yourself!" Jenny snarled. "I can't believe this!"

"Miss Jenny—"

"Get out of my way, Crane."

The implied threat in Jenny's tone sharpened Abraham's focus. That she would speak to an ally in such a manner meant something was amiss.

Shoving the taller man out of the way, Jenny threw open the door to the Horseman's cell and marched inside. "I know you can hear me," she said, addressing Abraham directly.

"Miss Jenny!" Crane tried to drag her away, but she knocked his hand from her arm.

"My sister is missing."

Abraham snapped to attention, fully awake now.

"We were tracking a wight that was snatching homeless people and leaving them dead. We cornered it near the Franklin Post Office and tried to use fire, but it grabbed Abbie and ran. We don't know where it took her, but if I'm right, you can find and kill that white haired freak before he eats her."

The Horseman jerked on his chains hard enough to make the links hum with the strain.

Jenny leaned in close, her voice clipped with stress: "I don't like you. I don't _trust_ you. But I've seen how you look at Abbie when you think nobody is watching. I _know_ she cares for you. You're an evil murdering son of a bitch, but I think you actually love her too," Jenny ignored Crane's horrified gasp. "I don't know where else to look. We can't find any traces, but I know she's not dead. I can't-I _won't_ believe that!"

Abraham vibrated with waves of agitation, his muscles corded like angry snakes as he fought against the enchanted shackles.

"I need you to find her, to bring her home safe—"

"_We_ will find her!" Crane said, flicking a nervous glance at their captive. "But releasing the _Horseman of Death_ is not the best course of action to that end!"

"The wight tore us up one side and down the other even _before_ it ran off with Abbie," Jenny growled at him. "What do you think it could do when there are only two of us? We're out of options!"

"There is still hope—"

"She could be dying! That _thing_ could be killing her right now while we're wasting time!"

Ichabod still looked torn with indecision, but he finally nodded.

"As long as Abbie is back safe, I don't care about the rest." Mills turned back to Abraham. "Do we have a deal?"

The Horseman stilled, then snapped the chain on his right arm once. He turned his wrists to offer up the locks to his restraints.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'." Jenny glanced over at Crane. "Get ready to kill the power to the UV."

"This is a spectacularly bad idea."

"Noted, now get on the switch," she ordered.

Jenny gave the Horseman a hard look, the shackle keys clenched tight to keep from rattling. "You really care for Abbie?"

His chained hands uncurled from their fists, fingers spread wide and open and defenseless. _What do you think?_

Biting her lip, Mills nodded with determination. "Bring her back home safe, _protect her_, and I promise you won't spend another moment in this place."

As each cuff sprung open, Abraham could feel a small portion of his sapped strength return. The UV lights were relentless in their oppression, but he still sagged in relief when the iron chest harness was finally lifted. Being able to roll and flex his shoulders without interference was nearly heaven after so many months chained up.

"Crane!"

With a final look of trepidation, Ichabod switched off the generator.

The rush of Power roared in Abraham's ears and set his nerves on fire as it flooded through him. He fell to his knees, sucking in huge gulps of air as pain wracked his starved muscles.

Jenny watched the Horseman shudder for several moments before getting unsteadily to his feet. His chest heaved as if he had been running yet, instead of the sound labored breaths, air whistled eerily through his severed throat. It was unnerving. She stepped backward into the hall, still wary of having him behind her.

Abraham flexed some of the stiffness from his shoulders and followed Jenny out of the cell once she was clear. To her continued surprise: he made no move to attack.

"The weapons locker," she pointed to a large steel door.

"Miss Jenny!" Ichabod was tense, his crossbow ready at hand.

"Shut up, Crane."

The Horseman stalked past the pair and to the armory. A quick perusal and he chose a hunting knife, two pistols, an AR15 and a riot shotgun. Pocketing ammo for each, Abraham smiled to himself as he made a final selection.

The fireman's axe wasn't what he was used to, but it still felt good in his hand. Abraham pushed a thread of power into the haft and the polished steel blade glowed like it had come fresh from the forge.

Ichabod shifted nervously, drawing the Horseman's attention. The axe sizzled with Abraham's anger and he took a step toward his former friend.

"Abbie _needs_ you, Abraham," Jenny reminded him sternly, unwilling to give in to the fear hidden behind her eyes. "You can settle your fight with Crane later."

The Horseman held a moment longer and then lowered his axe. Suddenly, he reversed the blade's direction and chopped through the UV generator cables that ran into the containment cell.

Jenny and Ichabod scrambled in alarm as sparks flew everywhere, but Abraham did not take advantage of their distraction to strike. He had made his point.

The Horseman spun the axe around once before storming off in the direction of the dungeon exit.

After a quick check for injuries and smoldering embers, the others followed Abraham from a safe distance.

Though it was autumn, the sun had only just dropped below the trees when the Horseman kicked open the door. The blazing light staggered him as his clothes began to smoke, but he refused to stop. He was nearly crawling by the time he reached the forest, though he only paused for a moment to catch his breath in the protective shade.

He glanced back once to see Jenny and Ichabod watching him from the security of their headquarters; twin expressions of fear and worry on both of their faces.

_Enough time wasted here_, Abraham grumbled to himself and whistled for his horse.

Minutes later, Daredevil's shrill whinny brought a pleased smile to the Horseman's face. The pale beast seemed equally happy to see him and drew its legs high in a prancing step. Abraham patted the nightmare's neck before climbing into the saddle.

It felt good to ride once again, to feel the wind and a fiery mount beneath him. Daredevil's legs stretched out, eating up the miles with a tireless gallop until they arrived at their first destination.

The sun had set by the time the Horseman entered the Sleepy Hollow cemetery and the darkness was full of untapped power, ripe for the taking.

Abraham reached down inside himself to call upon the strength and knowledge of Death's avatar for assistance. When his eyes cleared, he struck one of the headstones with the flat of his axe three times. The sound rang across the burial ground like a tolling bell, accompanied by strange words that thundered silently in his chest.

Their meaning was clear: _Rise, your master calls_.

Tendrils of black smoke began to thread upward from a handful of graves. Once free of their earthly tombs, the vapor swirled into shadowy skeletal forms. The creatures cackled and scratched at each other as they clambered to Abraham's side.

The Horseman reached into his coat and took out the carefully folded handkerchief. Abbie's terrible attempt at embroidery made him smile as he traced over the crooked monogram. The linen was soft and he still remembered the feel of her hand as she tucked it in the breast pocket, close to his heart.

Abraham's jaw clenched. _If she has come to harm…_

He looked down at his Shades, patiently waiting for his command. He held out the handkerchief for them all to sniff the long dried spot of blood._ Find the woman who gave me this and take me to her._

The creatures scampered off like hounds, chittering as they searched for a scent.

* * *

_**AN:**__ Oooo, things are starting to get rolling! :D _

_Thank you all for sticking with this story, I love hearing from everyone about what they think is going to happen!  
__(I feel a little like an evil Santa, knowing what's under the wrapping paper as you all make guess, muahaha)_


	9. Chapter 9

**Winner Takes All - Chapter 9**

_Spoilers up through Season 2 finale, ignores Orion arc so Katrina doesn't free Headless to escape him._

_**AN:**__ Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)_

_Big thanks to my Beta-Readers RS73 and Bittenfeld!_

_**Inspiration Soundtrack: **__"Abomination" - Penny Dreadful soundtrack (season 1)_

_**Join Team Brambie! See the FaceBook page for story news and fan-art!  
facebook/teambrambie**_

* * *

Abbie awoke to an aching skull and something sticky drying on her cheek. After a few moments of confusion, she managed to piece together that she had most likely been knocked out by the wight as it dragged her into a hole in the ground.

It seemed so simple, now that she thought of it: she had been using tunnels under the town for years. It should not have come as a surprise that other creatures would use them as well.

She had no idea how long she had been unconscious, but she was startled to find her wrists tied to a ring-bolt sunk into the concrete floor. Fresh blood trickled slowly into her eyes as she frowned. Why hadn't the monster just killed her like the others? Why tie her up when she was clearly no match for it?

A wheezing noise drew her attention and she jerked back when she saw the wight huddled in the corner. The creature's skin was so pale it looked like a Halloween skeleton wrapped in a white trash bag.

_Just like Susan said..._

Mills quickly looked around the rest of the room, searching for clues as to their location. A small window was set next to the only door, but it showed a higher ceiling outside instead of sky. Abbie reasoned that perhaps she was trapped in an office built inside a larger building or warehouse. The air was stale and heavy with dust, but there was a cloying scent of decay that tried to stick to the back of her tongue. To one side, the concrete floor was crumbled far enough to show the entrance of a tunnel, most likely the one she had been dragged through. Bones and rotting clothes were piled up in another area, giving evidence of what had happened to previous visitors.

Fear poured ice into her veins as she desperately tried to find some kind of good news.

The creature began to sniff the dusty air, as if scenting her distress. She watched it unfold its lanky body like an ivory spider and blink red glowing eyes in her direction.

Despite her best efforts to remain calm, terror clutched at Abbie's throat. Crime scene photos of the wight's other victims flipped through her head like a macabre movie reel. She struggled against her bindings, alternately jerking on the ropes and kicking at the ring-bolt in hopes of working it loose from the concrete.

The more she moved, the more agitated the creature became, so Abbie forced herself to stop and focus on taking deep calming breaths.

The wight whimpered and twitched pitifully, rocking on its bony feet, but made no further move towards her.

Now that she wasn't fighting so hard, Abbie could hear other noises.

Footsteps.

The wight began to growl as the door opened.

Three men entered the small office, their attitude and combat dress giving Abbie an inkling of who they were even before she saw the Hessian marks on their arms. One of the men had a cattle prod and pointed it at the wight. The language was unintelligible but she could imagine what it translated to: _Behave or suffer._

"Miss Mills," one of the men said in strongly accented English. "We apologize for ze rough treatment in bringing you here. But, it was important zat you were not followed."

"That so?" she sneered. "Well, you can let me go and not follow me back."

His teeth were perfectly straight as he smiled. "I fear zat is not possible."

"I figured, but didn't hurt to ask." She tried to look past the mercenaries to see what was outside of the door, but sheets of hanging white plastic blocking the view. "So, why am I here? It's clear this was planned ahead and you don't want Chuckles over there to eat me. What's the deal?"

"I cannot tell you zat."

"Are you trying to use me as bait for my friends?"

"Perhaps."

"It won't work!" He knew that was a lie as much as she did.

"Are you working for the Horseman?" Abbie dreaded the answer even as she asked. She didn't want to think that Abraham had somehow concocted the kidnapping while getting her to believe he was becoming a better man.

"I cannot tell you zat."

"Well you're just helpful as hell, Smiley."

That knocked some of the shine off of his demeanor. "All will become clear soon enough. Until zen, you will be our guest, Miss Mills. Here you shall stay."

With that, he pulled a pair of wire cutters out of his pocket and grasped the necklace around her throat.

Abbie jerked away. "Don't touch that!"

Smiley tightened the chain in his fist until it choked her airway. When she began to see stars, he cut the delicate links with a snap and Katrina's necklace fell into his waiting palm.

"You bastard!" she snarled hoarsely. "Abraham is going to be so _pissed!_"

The mercenary wasn't smiling now. "Zen, if I am to die, it would make no difference if I added to my list of crimes."

His backhanded slap knocked Abbie senseless.

* * *

She was close. The Shadelings were practically dancing with excitement as they raced back and forth. Abraham slowed his mount to survey the building, his own incarceration having taught him to be cautious.

Guards patrolled in pairs and were heavily armed, but the Horseman was less concerned about the defenses than he was about what would happen to Abbie once the alarm was sounded. Hessian or not, he did not want to risk that these men had orders to stop him.

He was about to move when a Shade screeched. Guards in a secondary patrol Abraham hadn't seen approaching from the trees called out before opening fire on the creature.

_Be on your guard, Death comes for you._

* * *

Muffled gunfire and screams. Abbie had been in and out of consciousness, making her unsure if she was still dreaming or how long the noises had been going on.

She heard a dreadful squeal behind her and she looked 0ver her shoulder in time to see the wight escape down into its tunnel. The cadaverous face had looked _terrified_.

The men at the doorway were also gone.

Fear gripped her, but she had so little to lose. Abbie began tearing at her bonds once more. "Help! Anyone? I'm in here!"

The door cracked open and someone slipped inside. "Hello?"

"Yes! Please, I'm here!"

"Mills?"

"Here!"

"Mills!"

Relief flooded Abbie's body as she recognized a friendly face. "Sheriff!"

"What are you doing here?" Reyes' dark eyes were full of concern as she glanced around, pistol drawn. "What the hell is going on?"

Mills nearly cried. "It would take too long to explain. How did you find me?"

"Someone reported shots fired, I was on my way home and came to investigate. I've called for backup, they should be here any moment." The sheriff clicked open a pocket knife to cut the bloodstained ropes. "Who _are_ these guys?"

"I'll tell you once we're safe," Abbie flexed her fingers, trying to work the feeling back into her hands.

There were more screams from outside, getting closer.

"We need to move! Are you hurt? Can you walk?"

"Help me out of here and I'll fricken _tap dance_."

"_That_, I'd like to see." Reyes' relieved smile was brief.

A body crashed through the doorway and tumbled into a broken heap near the huddled women. Reyes jumped up, her weapon raised defensively.

A dead man in a redcoat uniform stood blocking the exit with a glowing axe in his fist.

"Abraham?" Abbie blinked, her voice shaking with disbelief.

"What the-"

"No, wait Sheriff! He's…he's with me!"

"_What_?"

"It's tough to explain, but I will! Just don't _do_ anything…don't _shoot_ him_, _please."

"Mills, are you out of your_ mind?!_"

"Trust me!" Abbie threw a desperate glance at the Horseman.

Without the pendant, Abraham appeared headless and terrifying once more. As he paused in the doorway to look the women over, a moment of doubt flared in Abbie's mind. What if he had just been pretending all these months? What would he do now that he was free and didn't need her?

_Would he still..._

Abbie ruthlessly crushed the treacherous thoughts to dust, refusing to believe that everything they had shared had just been a trick.

She could tell Abraham was angry, but the tension eased in his shoulders when he saw her. Striding past the stunned sheriff, he pulled Abbie into his arms without any preamble.

She kept expecting to hear the harsh clank of his chains, the cold bite of the harness against her cheek, but Abbie realized that nothing like that would come between them again. Relief surged through her, washing away the fear and doubt as she buried her face into his chest.

When he drew back, she gave him a brave smile that trembled slightly as he looked over her injuries. She imagined she was an awful sight: blood matted her hair from the wound on her forehead, her cheek was swollen from the mercenary's slap, a thin mark sliced across her throat from where the necklace chain cut the skin. Abbie winced as the Horseman's grip on her shoulders tightened with each discovery.

"They took the pendant," she said when he touched her bare neck. "I'm ok, I'm just...just so glad you're here..."

Abraham cupped her undamaged cheek softly, brushing away the damp track of of her tears before turning his furious attention to the sheriff.

"_Wait_, don't hurt her. Reyes is here to help-"

The older woman looked between the odd pair and then chuckled as she put her sidearm away. "You're with her? Here I thought you were their prisoner, but it looks more like you were on a romantic holiday. Just what _were_ you doing down in that little dungeon of theirs?"

Abbie's brow wrinkled in confusion. The difference on the surface was subtle, but she stared at the superior officer she had known and barely recognized her. "Sheriff?"

Reyes seemed patently unconcerned with Abraham's looming presence, even when he stabbed an accusing finger inches from her face.

"Calm yourself. She's a little worse for wear, but I think you would agree that the results were worth it."

Abraham's axe flared, responding to his mute anger.

"Don't blame me, I had other business to take care of. _War_ was supposed to be handling your escape and _that _went pear-shaped thanks to the red witch. Besides, being locked up couldn't have been a total waste of time," Reyes motioned to Mills. "Look, you even came home with a _souvenir_."

The puzzle pieces finally clicked in Abbie's exhausted mind and her stomach sank. "You're a Horseman, too."

The sheriff looked her direction, a secretive smile on her lips. "Smart girl. I always liked that about you, Mills. If the world wasn't about to end, I'd have expected you to make Captain one day."

"These were _your_ men…"

"Mercenaries. I couldn't very well use cops, could I? You would have recognized them and spoiled the surprise. The Hessians-" Reyes rolled the thug's corpse away with the tip of her boot- "are useful and faithful to the Cause. Abraham didn't need to kill quite so many, honestly. But mercenaries are cheap and _dead_ mercenaries are _free_."

"And the wight? That was a trap _you_ set?"

"Not my best asset, I'll be honest, but a calculated risk. Too strong a monster and it would have killed you all off before you could have gone for help. One too weak and you could have finished it yourselves. To get what I wanted, I needed a threat that required a _Goldilocks_ solution."

"Abraham." Abbie looked at the headless man, her brow furrowed with dawning horror.

_I did not know,_ he signed urgenty.

She wanted to believe him, but dread pooled in her stomach.

"Top marks, Mills," Reyes' eyes glittered with approval. "If you had known another Horseman was behind the attacks, you would never have let Abraham out. _Two_ Horseman on the loose would be too much. It would be almost enough to start an Apocalypse!" she said mockingly.

"How...how did you know that-"

"That the 'God Squad' would send Death to come get you?" The sheriff's smile was ugly. "Simple: you told me."

"_What?_"

The older woman held up her phone and the sound of Abbie's voice carried through the warehouse. The one-sided conversation had taken place weeks earlier; in it, she had spoken to Abraham about Jenny's concerns with their relationship...

"How did you get that!"

"The technology of this century is a truly exceptional, you just need to know where to _apply_ it."

"You _bugged_ me? But…but you're…"

"One of the 'good guys'? A cop?" Reyes' smile grew teeth. "How better to spread my influence than from the inside?"

"You...you think you can bring about the end of the world by what? Giving traffic tickets?"

"If you think I'm going to lay out the details of my Dastardly Evil Plan for you, then you've been watching too many Bond films." Reyes clucked her tongue. "_However_, I will give you a small clue: to paraphrase a famous line: 'The Internet! You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy!'"

"What...?" Confusion scrawled across Abbie's face. "The Internet?"

"Amazing invention, Tweets spread faster than the bubonic plague in my heyday."

"You're _Pestilence_!"

"Or Conquest, depending on the canon you prefer." The sheriff dipped her head in a mocking bow.

"We beat you before!" Abbie's head began to pound in earnest as her temper rose.

"You mean the tiny bit of scourge that broke out a while back? A mere echo of my power that was caught up in that little mud hole of a village when it vanished. Moloch used it as a test, to see if you and Crane could handle a crisis. I must say: you did not disappoint."

Abraham tensed at the name of the demon who had anointed him, but otherwise did not react.

"A _test_? People died!"

"And many more would have, if left to fester. But you were a smart girl and solved the puzzle."

"You think you'll get away with all of this?!"

"Of course I will. Who would ever imagine that the sheriff of a small no-name town could control entire continents from her office?"

Trembling with rage, Mills sputtered: "All this time you were a Horseman! You put my mother in the _psych ward!_ you said you did it to help her!"

"I did. I wanted to help your mother with her demons," Reyes' eyes glittered an ugly yellow. "So I put her in a place where she couldn't escape from them."

Abbie snarled and tried to launch herself at the older woman but Abraham held her back. Mills' weakened state made her less of a match for the Horseman than normal, but she still fought like a tiger.

"_That!_ That, right there_, _I would never have predicted in a thousand years," Reyes shook her head at the wrestling pair. "Be careful you don't burn yourself on that temper of hers, Brother."

"I will kill you myself, Reyes!" Abbie spat.

"I sincerely doubt that. Besides," the sheriff chuckled as she sauntered toward the exit, "you're on furlough, Mills. The official story is that you suffered a nervous breakdown, job stress, and I put you on administrative leave. I even have evidence, in your handwriting, full of some crazy stories of monsters and time travelling soldiers. If you _do_ manage to find someone to listen, any story you spin about demons and the Apocalypse will never be taken seriously, especially considering your family's history of mental illness. They'll just think you've finally cracked." Reyes turned back when she reached the doors, a thoughtful look on her face. "I really do have to be getting back to the office, lots of paperwork and the Founders' Festival is about to start. _Thousands_ of tourists to prepare for. But before I go: I have a gift for you, Abraham..."

* * *

_**AN: Happy Halloween, ;)**_

_I live on reviews, yay! Thank you all!_


	10. Chapter 10

**Winner Takes All - Chapter 10**

_Spoilers up through Season 2 finale, ignores Orion arc so Katrina doesn't free Headless to escape him._

_**AN:**__ Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)_

_Big thanks to my Beta-Readers RS73 and Bittenfeld!_

_**Inspiration Soundtrack: **__"Pull the Trigger" - Penny Dreadful soundtrack (season 1)_

_**Join Team Brambie! See the FaceBook page for story news and fan-art!  
facebook/teambrambie**_

* * *

The tires of the SUV skidded to a halt in front of a remote block of warehouses.

"Here!" Crane held out the electronic tracking display, nearly dropping it in his agitation. Having a GPS chip placed in the fireman's axe had seemed unnecessary a few months earlier, but now he was supremely grateful for Jenny's paranoia.

The younger Mills sister was already out of the truck and racking the slide on her pistol, leaving Ichabod to catch up with his crossbow.

Covering each angle for safety, the pair cautiously edged around the building. They needn't have been concerned: every man they came across was dead.

And not all of the corpses were in one piece...

Jenny and Ichabod shared a look of concern.

Aside from the bodies, the compound seemed deserted. Smaller supply sheds crowded the larger buildings, rusted doors wide open to the elements and all of their stored contents long since moved or rotted away. A small group of vehicles sat parked on the cracked pavement, waiting for owners who would never return.

The oppressive silence ate at their nerves, making Jenny and Crane jumpy as they moved through the moon-cast shadows. Suddenly, a gunshot sounded from one of the back offices. The pair looked at each other and ran toward the noise in wordless agreement.

Sliding around the corner and through a ruined door, Ichabod felt his heart drop.

Abraham cradled Abbie in a widening pool of blood on the floor. His hand was pressed tightly against her stomach, but still the crimson fluid leaked through his fingers.

"No!" Jenny screamed, rushing to her fallen sister.

Ichabod's legs turned to jelly when the leftenant's eyes fluttered open. "Abigail!"

"You're going to be fine," Jenny was trying not to cry as she helped put pressure on the wound. "We'll get you all fixed up, we'll get you to a…a hospital and…and…"

Abbie opened her mouth to speak, but only a whimper emerged from her lips. Abraham gently stroked the hair back from her face with his free hand.

The intimacy of the motion filled Ichabod with sudden fury.

"Did you do this?" he demanded of the Horseman. Rage and grief strangled his voice as he willed the monster to confirm his worst fears.

Abraham jerked as if struck; the axe at his side flaring in response.

"No…" came Abbie's strained whisper, "…it…it was Reyes…"

"The sheriff?" Ichabod blinked, not comprehending. "Why would-"

"P-pes...Pestilence…"

"She's losing too much blood!" Jenny's voice cracked.

"No-no-no—_Abbie!_" Panic shoved the new information to the back of his mind as Ichabod threw down the crossbow. His hands fluttered, unsure of where to touch as everything was soaked with gore. It was like the time of Abbie's near drowning in the library: Crane had thought he couldn't feel more helpless than he had at that moment.

He was wrong.

"Jen...Crra…s-sorry about…"

"Shut up, don't you _dare! You are not going to quit on me!_"

Abbie coughed, pain squeezing her eyes shut tight. Trembling, she reached up for the Horseman. "…Bram…I..."

He grasped her hand and placed it over his heart.

Jenny was trying to find more cloth to pack the wound and didn't see the Horseman reach for the knife on his belt.

The flash of silver drew Ichabod's attention a second before it sliced through Abraham's red-stained palm. "What are—_NO!_"

Heedless to the danger, Crane lunged forward to grab the Horseman's arm but was tossed aside as easily as if he were a sack of flour.

Abbie cried out as Abraham's wound connected with hers, the blackened blood pulling her muscles tight in agony.

"Is she seizing?" Jenny watched in terrified confusion as her sister writhed on the floor. "What's happening? What—"

"Foul creature!" Ichabod snatched the crossbow up again and leveled it at the Horseman's chest. "_Stop_, let her go!"

Abraham ignored the scholar and kept his cut hand firmly against Abbie's stomach, using his other arm to hold tight no matter how violently she bucked.

Crane felt ill. It was his worst nightmare made reality, only this time it wasn't Katrina who was at the center of it...

Moments later the convulsions stopped and Abbie collapsed, laying terribly still.

Jenny fearfully whispered her sister's name.

Slowly, brown eyes cracked open to see the ring of worried faces. "Hey…"

"Abbie!" Ichabod scrambled to get closer, the crossbow forgotten in his slack grip.

Abraham finally withdrew his hand, revealing a white star-shaped scar that had formed over the gunshot wound.

"I don't…that's _amazing_," Jenny nearly laughed in relief. "You're going to be ok!"

"Oh...good, let's…let's not do that again…"

Crane trembled. He knew that there were more things afoot than what appeared to the eye, but Abbie was _alive_. It made him unwilling to look a gift horseman in the mouth.

"We should leave, in the event that the sheriff returns," he said, keeping a gimlet eye on the monster in their midst.

"Right," Abbie sat up and frowned as she tried to get her weakened legs to obey.

A scarlet coat draped over her shoulders a moment before strong arms scooped Abbie off of the ground. She looked up, mildly affronted about being handled like a child but her protests died in her throat.

"I can _see_ you..." she breathed in wonder.

"What?" Jenny asked, her brows lifting in surprise.

A grin crept across Abbie's mouth. "I can see Abraham!"

The Horseman's own smile was tight, the shadow of worry in his eyes fading a little as she studied his face.

"I don't understand-"

"A mystery to ponder in a safer locale. We really must _leave_ this place." Crane cut in sharply.

"Yeah...yeah, let's go."

Abraham let the others walk ahead of them a short distance to gain some privacy.

Ichabod kept looking back, the troubled scowl on his face promising that there would be _words_ later...

"But…they took the necklace. How—"

"I will retrieve the pendant once you are safe, though it appears that some of its function is no longer necessary. I gave you my blood to replace that which you had lost. Part of me now lives within you and it is likely the reason you see me as I am."

"So we're...linked now? Like you were with Crane?"

There was no mistaking the grimace that crossed Abraham's face at the mention of his rival. "Yes," he acknowledged reluctantly. "That would be a reasonable analogy."

"But he couldn't see you back then. Why can I?"

"Always so inquisitive," the Horseman chuckled. "I do not know. Perhaps he did not have enough of my blood. You have taken much more."

Her eyes suddenly widened in alarm. "Wait, you can be hurt because of me now! The Masons tried to poison you through Crane before-"

"Shhh. Fear not, my Abigail. Those men are dead and cannot harm you." Abraham gave her a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

"It's not me I'm worried about!"

Warmth filled the Horseman at her concern for him. "It is...still a possibility that others have such knowledge, yet I do not regret what I have done."

"No?"

"No," he looked down at her, blue very eyes serious. "My only lament is that I could not prevent Conquest from harming you at all."

"Oh...well... You're not Superman, after all."

"Superman?"

"'Faster than a speeding bullet'? 'Able to leap tall buildings'? He's a comic book her-look, nevermind," Abbie was too tired to give a lecture on pop culture. "What did Reyes mean: 'a gift for you'?"

"That, I fear, will take a much more detailed explanation. One that will have to wait until you have rested."

Abbie knew an evasion when she heard it, but he was right about her being exhausted. She had to fight the sway of his stride from lulling her to sleep.

She distracted both of them by trying to touch his cheek. Abraham shared her pang of disappointment when her fingers passed through.

"Still only an illusion, it grieves me to say."

"Maybe it's a good thing," Abbie said wryly. "I could kiss you, but I think everyone has had enough surprises for today."

He paused, standing in the blood of men he had slain to find her. "Do you truly care what they think?"

"Not really, just you." She settled her head more comfortably on his shoulder. "You have to admit: we make a strange couple. Not that long ago we were trying to kill each other."

"You think me a reformed monster?" he kept his tone light, but there was bitterness lurking underneath.

"You're not a monster." Her soft words ran through Abraham's heart like a sword. "You're a good man."

It was several moments before he could speak. "You are the only one to see me thus."

"That's because they can't see what I do." Her honest smile was his undoing. Katrina had always been formal or coy, keeping her lies and secrets close to her chest. She had never laid her soul bare to him as the petite leftenant did.

The Horseman lost himself in her gaze. "Abigail…"

"Are you two finished mooning at each other? We need to _go_!" yelled Jenny.

Abbie's dusky skin was still pale from blood loss, but she had enough left to blush.

Abraham bit down on his irritation and started walking again. He gingerly picked his path through the carnage to keep from slipping in the drying gore.

"Thank you," Abbie said in a heartfelt whisper. "I'd have been dead if you hadn't come…"

Something dark slid through his eyes, primal and ancient. "I am the Horseman of Death. I shall never let you die."

* * *

Outside of the warehouse, the night was chill with the autumn breeze. Abbie shivered despite the heavy coat.

Jenny flicked a glance up at the Horseman. "We need to get her checked out at a hospital."

"Agreed," Ichabod reached for his leftenant.

Abraham stepped back, tightening his grip possessively around the bloody woman.

The safety clicking off of Jenny's pistol was loud.

"It's all right. I'm fine," the elder Mills said quickly. "I don't need a hospital; just a shower and some sleep."

"Abbie—"

"I'm _fine_. Abraham will make sure nothing happens to me."

"He is a Horseman of the _Apocalypse_," Ichabod growled. "Pardon me if that is not a comfort."

Abraham's scathing reply was inaudible, but Abbie put a placating hand on his chest all the same. "He could have let me die back there, but he didn't. I think that says a lot."

"A single act of compassion does not negate the tide of evils he has perpetrated in the past! If you believe for one moment that I would allow-"

"I don't. But this isn't about what _you_ would _allow_."

Ichabod sputtered further protests but Abraham grew impatient and started to walk toward his pale horse.

"Wait!"

The Horseman paused, turning back to face Jenny.

She shifted nervously, the pistol clutched in her white-knuckled hands. "You remember our deal?"

Abbie looked confused, but answered for him: "Yes."

"Good, uh, just make sure you keep your end of the bargain."

"He says he will. What bargain are you two talking about?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it."

Puzzled and mildly annoyed by the secrets stacking up around her, Abbie just nodded.

Abraham resumed his march toward the demonic mount standing patiently at the edge of the forest.

"_Leftenant!_"

The axe strapped to the Horseman's side glowed angrily but he refused to stop a second time.

"_No_, Crane!" Abbie barked over her shoulder. "I'm fine."

The scholar glowered. "Very well, we will meet you back at the tunnels-"

"No." Abbie had felt the Horseman tense at the mention of the dungeon. "I'll call in the morning, we can plan what to do about Reyes then."

"Leftenant, I _must_ object!"

"I nearly _died_, I think that grants me the right to call the shots for a while. I know you're unhappy, but wait until tomorrow to bitch to me about it. I'm so fuckin' _done_ with today."

Ichabod could only watch helplessly as the Horseman lifted Abbie into the saddle, his arm tight around her waist as they galloped off. The sense of déjà vu was unbearable.

* * *

Abraham had intended to go directly to his estate, but she convinced him to change course.

"We shall gather the supplies that you need, but we will not be staying in your home," he stated flatly. "Conquest's attack has already proven that you are vulnerable."

"I get shot up and everyone gets all bossy," she grumbled under her breath. "Look: I'm dirty, I'm covered in blood and probably worse. I am not going anywhere without taking a shower and getting some new clothes. Besides," she rolled her head back to look up at him. "You'll be with me this time."

Slightly mollified, Abraham directed his mount down the street that she indicated. The homes of the new century were built to resemble the ones of his time. However, instead of the hand-crafted feel he was used to, the houses were disturbingly similar; as if they had been stamped on a printing press. Mills called it a 'subdivision', though he wasn't sure how mathematics applied to residences.

The house she pointed out as her own was a small, two story structure painted a soft grey-blue with white trim. A large bench swing hung to the left of the front door, suspended from the columned veranda that wrapped around the building.

Abraham thought the property suited her: tidy, warm and comfortable.

"Here," she said, pointing toward the back of the house. "We can put your horse in the garage while we pack. I don't really use it so there should be plenty of room—"

"Daredevil."

"What?"

"My horse. His name is Daredevil." The beast tossed his head, red eyes burning in the dark.

"Oh," Abbie said, reaching down to pat the nightmare's shoulder. "Uh, sorry if I was rude."

Daredevil whickered in reply.

Though the back of the house was secluded with trees and a privacy fence, Abbie still looked up at the dark windows of the neighboring properties with trepidation. She hoped no one was up with the midnight munchies. _Yes Officer, I would like to report a woman and a movie monster out for a horseback joy ride..._

A police report would be the least of her worries, yet Reyes being a supernatural creature herself would probably work in Abbie's favor.

Still weak and sore from the unaccustomed abuse of horseback, she appreciated that Abraham helped her slide from the saddle.

"Thank you," Abbie blushed as he caught her, his hands lingering at her waist. When she was steady enough to stand on her own, she punched in the security code and activated the door lift.

Boxes and holiday decorations took up nearly half of the two car garage, but there was enough room for a demonic stallion to bed down.

"Sorry about the mess, I don't normally let guests see this part of the house," Mills said sheepishly.

Abraham cautiously led his mount inside and soothed the beast as the door slid down behind them.

Glancing around, a strange looking pumpkin caught the Horseman's attention and he lifted it from the pile of boxes. Hollow and unnaturally light, he ran a curious finger over the fierce expression carved into the orange skin.

He caught Abbie looking at him, shaking her head. "Something troubles you?"

"Aside from the obvious? It's just," she chuckled. "If someone had told me months ago that I would have the Headless Horseman in my garage, I never would have believed them."

"Ah," he said with a half-smile, setting the Jack-o-Lantern down. Abraham closed the distance between them and brushed a lock of hair from her face. He reveled in the ability to touch her freely after being so long in chains. "Months ago," he murmured. "I would have been here to kill you, not keep you safe."

"It's been a strange year," she whispered, her eyes wide.

"An understatement, to be sure."

He was so close, he seemed to fill the room with his presence. Abbie's heart raced, drawing her breath short. She had dreamed of such a moment, but now his hand on her cheek was solid and _real_.

The need to kiss him was so strong, she was afraid she would drown in it.

_But how do you kiss someone without a mouth?_

The thought jerked her back to her senses and she swallowed hard, glancing at the pale horse. "Does he need…um…water or anything?"

Something like disappointment flickered across Abraham's brow. "He does not. Though he seems to fancy cats on occasion."

"Cats?"

"Apparently they taste better than dogs and are more challenging to catch."

"You're joking," Abbie said, faintly green. When the Horseman shook his head, she gave Daredevil a stern look. "Don't eat the neighbor's cat. I don't want to have to explain what happened to the home association."

She wasn't sure if the fiery chuff was a laugh or a yes, but she let it go. The way the world seemed to be headed, missing felines were low on the list of tragedies.

"Come on, let's get cleaned up."

* * *

_**AN:**__ The response for this story has been so great, I couldn't have imagined that there were so many others out there who were willing to give this 'ship a chance! Thank you all so much for your reviews and support! _


	11. Chapter 11

**Winner Takes All - Chapter 11**

_AU: Spoilers up through Season 2 finale, ignores Orion arc so Katrina doesn't free Headless to escape him. Ignores Season 3._

_**AN:**__ Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)_

_Big thanks to my Beta-Readers RS73 and Bittenfeld!_

_**Inspiration Soundtrack: **__"Serial Killer" - Lana Del Rey_

_**Join Team Brambie! See the FaceBook page for story news and fan-art!  
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deviantart / blackwolfmajik**_

* * *

Of course the others wouldn't let it go.

No sooner had Abbie and Abraham entered the house when the beam of headlights swept across the living room.

The Horseman reflexively grasped his weapon, but paused when Mills touched his arm.

"Abbie?" Jenny called while using her key to open the front door, Ichabod close on her heels.

Abraham's irritation was evident, but Crane ignored him.

"What are you two doing here?"

"To ask if you have taken leave of your sen—"

"Crane!" Jenny gave a quick glance at the looming Horseman. "We wanted to make sure you were ok."

"I _said_ I was fine, you don't have to worry about me." Abbie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose against the beginnings of a headache. "But since you're all here, we might as well have dinner."

"Dinner?"

"_Yes_, Crane. I'm starving. The kidnappers didn't exactly ask me what I wanted for my last meal."

The scholar flushed, his expression a conflicting mix of anger, fear and regret.

Mills pulled a pizza from the freezer and set the oven to pre-heat. Thirty minutes to melted cheese and pepperoni heaven left plenty of time for the other necessities.

"When it beeps, the pizza can go in the oven. Meanwhile, I'm going to go take a shower. Can you all promise not to kill each other until I get back?"

Abbie didn't wait for the inevitable protests, just headed for the master bedroom. She rolled her eyes as Abraham's heavy footsteps followed behind her. She expected more trouble out of the Horseman, but he simply took up a sentry post at the doorway when she gave him a look.

"I will be waiting for you," he said with a smile full of dark promises.

A spike of heat ran through her body, but she couldn't afford to be distracted. "Shower," Abbie chanted under her breath as she closed the door. "Shower, shower, shower, shower _first_."

She heard Abraham's chuckle through the solid wood.

* * *

Twenty short minutes later, Abbie was clean and feeling more like herself. A fresh pair of jeans and a lavender scoop-necked t-shirt slipped over her matching underthings like armor. Self-consciously, she pulled the shirt down farther to hide the newest of her scars. Abbie had stared at it for a long time in the bathroom mirror, letting her fingers run over the star-shaped mark that linked her with the Horseman of Death. The weight of what it might mean was more than she was able to face just yet.

Abbie checked herself in the mirror for the tenth time and took a deep breath.

She opened the door to see Abraham, still vigilant in his promise to guard her room. The angry scowl on his face melted when he met her eyes. "They are arguing about us," was all he said.

"Let them," Abbie replied, trying to smother the glittering spark that bloomed at how he said 'us'. She grasped the Horseman's wrist and dragged him into her bedroom.

She saw his surprised smirk and shook her head. "No, no, don't get any ideas. You are covered in over two hundred years of God knows what. You are not doing anything else before you get cleaned up."

"You think that I have not bathed since I arose?"

"If you don't use oatmeal body-wash and a loofah, it doesn't count."

Abraham watched her with amusement as she explained how to use the various knobs and potions in the gleaming white lavatory. He missed some of what she said when she bent over to adjust the water temperature. It took all of his self-control not to run his hands over the enticing swell of her curves.

The Horseman had his revenge when she turned to see him finish the last row of buttons and slowly remove his shirt.

It was several long moments before Abbie was able to tear her gaze away from the sculpted torso. Her fingers itched to touch the battle scars that wrote the violent story of his past. "Towels. Towels are to…towel." She held a piece of plush cloth up like a shield.

"Eloquent," Abraham said with a devastating grin. Seeing his effect on her made him feel coltish, even downright _playful_. It was a strange sensation after centuries wracked with only pain and fury.

The Horseman watched her try to gather up her wits and give him a haughty look of her own, determined to not let him get under her skin. Her bravado was short lived.

He nearly laughed as she bolted from the room when he reached for the buttons on his trousers.

Safely outside, with the bathroom door closed between them, Abbie could think once more.

She took a few cleansing breaths and then dug out the bag of clothing she had originally bought for Crane. Though her attempts to update the scholar's wardrobe had been thwarted, she was now thankful that she had not returned the garments.

Abbie went to the bathroom door and listened to the running water to make sure Abraham was still occupied. Slowly, she opened the door just enough to stick her arm in and place the clean clothes on the counter.

Afterward, Mills groped around blindly to collect up Abraham's old clothes; stuffing them into the shopping bag for later. She had no illusions about the Horseman wanting to get rid of his uniform, so she hoped the cleaner would be able to get out the bloodstains.

Satisfied she had all of the pieces, Abbie snatched her hand back and closed the door. She felt like a child trying to jump into bed before the monsters could reach out from underneath and gobble her up.

A key difference was that _this_ particular boogie-man likely had other plans if he caught her...

Abbie knew she couldn't stall any longer. Taking a last fortifying breath, she left the security of her room to face the music.

* * *

Ichabod paced the room angrily. "This is intolerable!"

Jenny glanced over at him as she checked the pizza to make sure it was cooking evenly. "Which part?"

"All of it! Are you not outraged by this—this—"

"I admit that it still freaks me out a little, but I guess it isn't all that surprising."

"'Surprising'?" Shock curdled Ichabod's handsome face. "You...you _knew!_ It is how you were sure he would track Abigail down! Just how long has this affair been going on?"

"It's been building a while, I think. The signs were all there, Crane. You were too busy with Katrina to notice them."

Ichabod fell silent at the mention of his wife. He shook his head, trying to clear the array of memories that assailed him. Most of all, he wanted to erase the feeling of her blood on his hands.

He rallied to the current cause as a distraction. "You did not think to mention these…_suspicions_ to me earlier?

"What would you have done? Tried to keep her away from him?" Jenny snorted. "You know Abbie, how well do you think that would have gone over? She's her own woman, she makes her own choices."

"I am well aware of that. However, now she is indebted to Abraham. There is no predicting what it is he will require from her in return."

"I think it's rather clear what he wants."

"Surely, she cannot be serious in thinking that he desires her friendship!"

"Friendship would be putting it mildly," Jenny muttered, her gaze narrowing as she watched Crane's reaction. "That's really what this is about, isn't it?"

Crane looked hunted. "What do you mean?"

"I think you know _exactly_ what I mean."

"She is my fellow Witness, I worry about her safety. Our roles are too important for the future of humanity," he said weakly. "Besides, how…how can she even _consider_-He is the _Horseman of Death_! A Harbinger of the Apocalypse. He has murdered countless innocents, including your Sheriff Corbin!"

"And his ticket will get punched for that, trust me," Jenny's eyes were like chips of black ice. "I'm not happy about this either, but it isn't exactly unprecedented. Abbie hasn't had the best luck with men."

Crane looked startled and then thoughtful. "You are referring to Officer Morales? I suspected that they had been...intimate, but she never spoke of what transpired between them."

Jenny's expression darkened further. "It's her business. If she wants to talk to you about it, that's her choice. All I'll say is that there are still times I question why I didn't put a bullet in him for what happened."

"Oh...I did not realize they were so deeply involved."

"Abbie was."

Crane digested the unspoken implication. He had believed he had grown to know the leftenant well enough in their time together, but now he was beginning to wonder...

Silence fell as the companions drifted into their own thoughts.

Jenny shook off the quiet first. "Anyway, unorthodox as it might have been, Abraham did what we asked."

"Are we quite sure of that?"

"My sister is safe and now we know about Pestilence," Jenny frowned. "I'm taking the win for what it is. We can deal with the rest later."

"You have said that before. Yet how many more will die while we wait for _later_?" Crane ran his hands through his long hair in agitation. "While he was our prisoner, Abraham could be controlled. Now he is free to reconnect with his demonic compatriots and do any manner of evil deeds. He could hurt or _kill_ Abigail. The consequences of his release are on our heads!"

"Maybe," Jenny chewed her lip, a movement so reminiscent of her sister it made Ichabod's chest ache. "But Abbie is right: if the Horseman had wanted her dead, he could have left her to bleed out on the floor. Why would he save her now, just to kill her later?"

Crane opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when his Leftenant emerged from the bedroom. Light sparkled in the drops of water still caught in her hair and the lilac blouse left a long expanse of her neck visible. He had to drag his eyes back to her face through sheer force of will.

"You know he can hear you, right?" she grumbled.

His blood already running hot with anger, the added catalyst of desire nearly pushed Ichabod over the edge. "Good!"

"_And_ my neighbors probably can, too. It's late! We already have enough trouble on our hands without someone calling the cops for a noise complaint, _especially_ with Reyes in control. If you don't settle down, I'm kicking you both out."

"It's fine, we were just discussing the newest…_recruit_."

Crane scoffed, resuming his furious pacing.

"Look, I know Abraham has been…"Abbie trailed off, unwilling to focus too much on how crazy it sounded to be defending a monster. "Anyway, let's just see how things go. We trapped him before, we can do it again if things go sideways. We're all we have, we _need_ allies. A Horseman on _our_ side would be a crazy powerful one."

"Agreed," Jenny asked, her eyes serious. "But, are you really sure about him, Abbie?"

The older Mills sister heaved a deep sigh, running her hands through her drying hair. "Honestly? I'm still trying to figure that out myself. But he's much more than what we thought—"

"Oh yes, he's an arrogant blowhard—"

"_Crane_."

"No! I will _not_ be silent on this. I knew him when he was alive-"

"_And_ you were friends. What makes you think that if Katrina hadn't come between you that you wouldn't _still_ be friends?"

Abbie gave Ichabod a hard stare as he struggled with something he obviously wanted to say, but her attention was diverted by the sound of the shower turning off.

"Look, I need to go check on…I'll be back," she said before returning to the bedroom.

* * *

Abbie openly gawked at the blond god standing near her bed.

Muscles rippled across Abraham's back like hidden serpents under his pale skin as he held up the T-shirt. A scowl tugged at his lips as he tested the stretch of the cotton fabric.

"Do you expect these garments to fit?"

The button fly jeans were a little too short and a bit tight across his rider's thighs, but she was having trouble complaining about the view. The cotton boxers she had left him were still on the bed.

"I…uh…wasn't expecting to have house guests. You sort of caught me unprepared."

"And yet you have a man's clothing readily at hand?"

"What?" His tone cleared Abbie's daze instantly. "Just what are you implying?"

The Horseman turned the full force of his attention on her, pale eyes dangerous like a storm. "I have had trouble with rival suitors before, I have no wish to repeat the past."

"I get that."

Abraham advanced on her, a predator in every sense of the word. Intimidated more than she wanted to admit, Abbie took an involuntary step backward and hit the closed door. As she tried to turn the knob to escape, he placed his large hands on either side of her head to hold the door firmly shut.

Unless he decided to let her go or she called to the others, she might as well have tried to move a mountain.

"I will suffer no other men in your bed, do you understand? You will be _mine_, and mine alone."

"You think I'm that easy that I would just sleep with anyone?"

"I think you are a strong woman who is accustomed to getting whatever she desires."

The compliment delivered as an accusation threw Abbie off, but she recovered quickly. "Maybe, but let's get something straight: I only date one man at a time. Period. So, if _we're_ together, then that's it. You and me."

Distrust laced his expression and she couldn't really blame him. Abraham had been betrayed at one point or another by all of the people closest to him, despite their promises to the contrary.

Still, his remark had struck a nerve and pissed her off. She wasn't going to take it lying down.

Abbie went on the attack by stepping forward, deeper into his personal space. She bared her teeth in open challenge. ""What about _you_, Van Brunt? Were you loyal or did you play the field while you were engaged to Katrina?"

The Horseman's angry glare narrowed.

"If you want this to work, you need to give as good as you get. So here's the deal: if you want me to be yours, then you better offer up the same. _You_ become _mine _and_ only mine_."

The arrogance borne of noble upbringing flickered in his expression for a heartbeat. "Bargains are best kept when the parties are even. You are human, I am not. Where is the balance in that?"

"Nobody is perfect."

He loomed over Abbie, blocking out the light and sealing her in his shadow. "You forget that I am no longer _chained_, I could simply take what I wished from you."

"You wouldn't."

"Would I not?"

"You're an honorable man, not a thug," she hissed. "You've heard my terms, _deal or no deal_?"

He scowled harder.

Abbie watched a muscle twitch in his jaw as she waited for his answer. When he remained silent, she felt something turn brittle inside her chest. "I see..."

Abraham's eyes squeezed shut, his shoulders rigid.

"You know what? Fine, whatever." She hated how weak her voice suddenly sounded, like some pathetic girl in a cheesy romance movie. She needed to stay angry and hold onto the rage when everything in her soul just wanted to collapse. She tried to bite back the disappointed tears that burned like acid. "_Fuck._ What _is it_ about me that men can't...? Am I...am I just not enough? Is that it?"

Blue eyes flew back open, the menace from moments earlier washed away in a flood of genuine alarm. "_No!_ Abigail, that is not…"

Abbie felt his left hand cup her face, stroking away the wetness from her cheek but she was too startled by his reaction to move.

"I am a Horseman. I carry the knowledge of every Rider before me and not one has found someone who could look past their armor to see the man inside. You...I would have pledged myself to you, even if you had not asked. But I am a _Horseman_," he repeated. "My life may not be my own to give."

She stared up at the naked honesty in his face, the faint shine of his own tears made the glass of her heart crack further.

"Despite the depth and strength of my affection, I...I cannot grant you the happiness that you truly deserve." He began to withdraw, misery making his entire frame droop under the weight.

She grasped his hand, stopping him.

"I guess we'll just have to work with what we've got then." She sniffled once more, then nodded with renewed determination. "I said before that you were stuck with me. I meant it."

Abraham blinked in surprise, then a rare smile bloomed on his face. He leaned over to bring his forehead down to hers, close enough that his loose hair would have brushed her face if it had been more than illusion. "You are a truly a woman of unparalleled nature."

Her sudden blush flashed hot. "Well, you know...can't have too many people like me around. We might band together, take over the world, outlaw morning meetings."

"I can think of worse fates."

"Yeah," Abbie sobered. "I guess so."

"Whatever the future may have in store for us, I will find it at your side." The Horseman looked deeply into her eyes, his voice hushed and reverent in the dimness. "I, Abraham Alexander Van Brunt, swear that I will court only you, Grace Abigail Mills, as long as your heart remains true to mine."

He watched his words soften the distrustful wrinkle in her brow as she searched his face for any signs of deception. Seeing none, she squared her shoulders as fresh tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. "Then I, uh...I, Grace Abigail Mills, promise that I will allow no other men t-to court me, as long as you, Abraham Alexander Van Brunt, remain true to me, too."

He sighed, as if her halting words had unlocked something in his own chest. For the first time Abraham looked truly relaxed and more like she imagined he had been centuries earlier before he died.

He looked _content_.

"Sounds so official," Abbie teased, her own giddiness threatening to overwhelm the serious moment. "Should we tell the others of the happy announcement?"

The Horseman's grin became something more. "Not just yet."

Heat rushed across her face and pooled in her belly as she caught his meaning.

Abraham ran his thumb over her soft lips. "I have never wished for anything in my life so much as to be able to kiss you right now."

"Just kiss?"

His deep chuckle was ragged. "Propriety dictates that we must remain chaste until our wedding."

_"Wedding?"_ The word was like a cold bath. Even though Abbie had accepted his offer to 'court' her, the idea that he would want to legitimately propose hadn't really crossed her mind.

"I will not have you slandered for being with me out of wedlock. I have every intention to make you an 'honest woman', as they say."

"You're the _Headless Horseman of Death_, is my reputation really what you're worried about?"

"It is all the more reason to conduct myself above reproach in matters that concern you."

The words were out of her mouth before she had time to think about them: "Social rules aren't so strict anymore."

"Truly?" the flare of lust in his eyes took her breath away. "Then you would not be offended if I said I would find it nearly impossible to wait that long in any event?"

It irritated her that he could be so eloquent while she was having trouble focusing beyond the next heartbeat. Coils of desire were tightening inside Abbie like a python and her mouth continued to have a will of its own. "'Wait'? I think we'd be lucky if we made it out of this house before I rip those jeans off of you."

Abraham grinned down at the petite woman, clearly pleased with her answer.

_Smug bastard, _she thought_. Fine, _two_ can play that game._

Abbie's tongue darted out to lick the finger still on her lips, making his breath catch.

Encouraged by his reaction, she took the digit fully into her mouth to suck on it gently.

"_Abi_..." A tremor ran though the Horseman's frame, making the wooden door creak where his free hand still held it closed.

Letting his thumb go with a final light raking of her teeth, Abbie leaned forward into the heat of his body. The planes of his chest were like living steel under her fingertips and she mapped them slowly an inch at a time. The scars were rough to the touch, but they did little to take away from the perfection of his form. She was trailing light kisses across his heart when she felt his control finally crumble.

He pressed her back against the door, letting his right hand move to join the left as it slid down her neck. Calluses from battle drew goose bumps on her dark skin.

She looked up to see that the blue of his eyes had nearly drowned in black.

The Horseman's hands were on her shoulders and suddenly Abbie's shirt became an annoyance. "Wait," she said, grabbing the hem of her blouse to pull it off. He was loathed to release his grip, but the brief loss of contact was worth it.

She felt him pause as he took in the sight of her. Nervous and suddenly regretting being so exposed, Abbie tried to cover the new scar with her hand. Abraham gripped her wrist firmly to stop her. She flicked a glance up to see his serious expression.

"You are truly beautiful."

"Even with..."

"You could never be anything but perfect to me," he said reverently, lifting her chin with a finger. "Do not ever doubt that."

"Oh," Abbie blushed. "Well you're, uh, pretty beautiful yourself."

His teeth were very white in the dark as he smiled.

Abraham slipped his fingers under the creamy silk of her bra strap and let it guide him down to the fullness of her breast.

Her breathing hitched as his thumb stroked across her nipple, springing it tight with excitement.

Tingles raced across her body wherever he touched, making her attention narrow down to only the feeling of his hands on her skin.

Abraham shuddered as her own fingers returned to wander across his stomach, following the hills and valleys of muscle down to the edge of his jeans.

"_Abigail_..." The raw need on his voice made the muscles clench deep in her belly.

Abbie muffled a shriek against his shoulder as she was suddenly lifted from the floor and tossed onto the bed. Before she could scramble away, Abraham set his knees between her thighs and pinned her wrists to the mattress. Excitement, with a touch of alarm, in her chocolate eyes made his blood sizzle. Dragging her hands over her head, he used one of his own to trap her wrists together. Abbie tried to wriggle free, but a quelling look made her whimper with something other than fear. Balanced on the left hand near her head, Abraham let his right roam across the divine temptress beneath him.

He growled again with the frustration of not being able to run his lips over her soft curves, but he was determined to make up for his handicap.

Trailing his fingers lightly down her throat, he paused to trace the line of her collarbone, drawing delicious shivers from her skin.

He spent extra time with each breast, teasing the nipples back to stiffness he craved to feel on his tongue. His hand was large, but her buxom flesh filled it perfectly, as if Abbie's figure had been crafted for him.

Abraham skimmed his face just above her body, taking in the scent of her skin and the jasmine shampoo she used earlier.

She trembled when he reached the top of her pants. Her nerves finally winning over the rampant arousal, Abbie twisted her hips to keep him from unlocking the last of her secrets. Bad relationships had left no physical scars on her skin, but the emotional damage was still very real.

The Horseman's blue eyes rolled up to meet her brown, questioning. Abbie tried to squirm, but his grip on her wrists kept her anchored.

"They'll hear," she covered lamely, with a quick glance at the door.

"I expect they will," the evil grin he tossed her was all alpha male. "Having Ichabod hear you scream my name while I pleasure you is _vastly_ appealing."

"Gloating is not very attractive, Abraham." Old stubborn doubts began to reawaken in Abbie's mind: was all of this just a ploy so the Horseman could get back at Ichabod?

He straightened from his crouch to lean over her. "If I have offended, allow me to make amends…"

"'Amends'? How do you-" Abbie gasped as he pressed his lower body against hers, letting her feel him rock hard and straining against the buttons of his jeans. Liquid heat rushed through her like a scalding wave, sweeping away the capability of rational thought for a few heartbeats. He thrust his hips upward slowly, grinding over hypersensitive areas that ached to feel more as a promise of things to come. "Dear _Lord_!"

The Horseman's deep chuckle was like velvet. "And _you_ are my dear Lady."

She didn't have enough breath to laugh at the poor joke.

Suddenly, it seemed foolish to have stopped him from stripping her naked. He wasn't Luke: the egotistical man-child who abused her trust and body for his own pleasure. He wasn't Ichabod: the friend and partner who was emotionally unavailable.

This was _Abraham_, the Horseman who loved her. He had _saved_ her, perhaps already more than once.

"Please..." she whispered, hoping he could hear the wealth of what she wanted to say in the single word.

He smiled.

It seemed like an eternity before Abraham finally popped the button on her jeans. Abbie whined as he paused once more to savor the desperate look on her face.

Abbie was contemplating how she could use her knees to gain the upper hand when there was a knock at the door.

"Be there in a minute!" Abbie squeaked, now fighting to get free of Abraham's grip in earnest.

The Horseman cursed long and fluently as he rolled off of the bed. A few quick angry steps and he nearly jerked the door off its hinges when he snatched it open.

"_Jesus_!" Jenny leaped back in shock. Her eyes went wide with appreciation at the sight of Abraham's bare chest before she remembered the purpose of disturbing him in the first place. "Pizza's ready, unless you would rather take it to-go-"

Some of the Horseman's irritation was tempered by slamming the door shut in Jenny's face.

"Never fails." Abbie giggled, a sound that was a shade close to insane. "Guess we'll have to pick this up later."

He didn't want to, especially when she looked so delightful: sprawled loosely across the bed. His body clambered to bury itself in her curves, but Abraham knew that once he started he would not let her go until they both were thoroughly satisfied.

She would need to eat something to keep up her strength.

With regret, he drew her from the bed to stand flushed and shaky against him. The Horseman slid his hands down her back until he grasped her rear. He pressed their bodies together, actually lifting her from the floor. He knew from the dark look in her eyes that she could still feel how hard he wanted her.

"Abigail…"

She wasn't sure if it was a warning or a plea, but she smiled. "Yeah…me too."

The Horseman settled her back on the floor and forced himself to step away.

Abbie felt him watching her as she dressed once more, his eyes soaking in every detail like she was a work of art.

She handed him the t-shirt he had discarded earlier.

"About the clothes: I don't normally have men's wear around. I bought them for Crane when he first woke up. But he's too sentimental about the old days and refuses to wear anything but 'homespun'. I'm sorry if they don't fit that well, but now that I have an idea of your…um…_size_, I can make better purchases."

"That will not be necessary, Henry procured garments for me at my estate." Abraham's brow rose as he saw the flicker of disappointment cross her face. "However, I appreciate the opportunity to try new fashions."

That earned him a tiny smile. Making Abbie pleased smoothed over the idea that he was wearing Ichabod's cast offs.

"Shall we go before your sister returns with a weapon?"

Abbie laughed with a nod.

* * *

_**AN: **This chapter is much longer than my usual, there just wasn't a good break point for it so I just let everything ride. You don't mind do you? ;)_

_So, you also might have seen my post where I'm planning on going back to school. Yes, this means that I will have less time to write and zero time to serve as a Beta reader. I am very sorry for this, but FanFics don't pay the bills (unless you write Twit stuff, I guess). So, since my retirement plan of winning the PowerBall didn't work out last night - I guess we know what I'll be doing for the next while._

_I have several more chapters for WTA already hammered out for the most part, so there shouldn't be an impact on my posting schedule for a little while. Once I see how my homework load is, I'll get a better idea on what non-school stuff I can handle._

_Thank you all for your support of Brambie! I would love to see your contributions to this pairing, you can send it to me direct or post it on the FB page for everyone to see, :)_


	12. Chapter 12

**Winner Takes All - Chapter 12**

_Spoilers up through Season 2 finale, ignores: Orion mini-arc and current Season 3._

_**AN:**__ Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)_

_Big thanks to my Beta-Readers RS73 and Bittenfeld!_

_**Inspiration Soundtrack: **__"Heroes Fall" - Avengers 2 - Age of Ultron soundtrack (Mattia Cupelli)_

_**Join Team Brambie! See the FaceBook page for story news and fan-art!  
facebook/teambrambie**_

* * *

If Abbie thought the jeans were bad, the shirt was even worse.

Unlike Ichabod's thin wiry frame, Abraham was built like a wrestler with broad shoulders and well defined muscles. The combination resulted in the black cotton t-shirt looking like it had been painted on a marble statue. Abbie tried to keep her eyes on her plate, but the only thing saving her from looking like a drooling idiot was how hungry she actually was.

Unsurprisingly, other appetites were slim in the dead man's presence. The awkward silence was broken by the elder Mills' enthusiastic attack on the pizza.

Abraham chose to stay beside Abbie's chair with his arms crossed like an attentive gargoyle. Without a head the others couldn't see the Horseman's face, but his stance alone spoke volumes_._

Jenny kept glancing between the odd pair, but finally shook her head and circled the kitchen island to make more coffee.

Ichabod just scowled.

The Horseman said something; the quick frown Abbie shot him gave it away.

Hoping to prevent a potential crisis, Jenny spoke up from the other side of the counter: "So, did Reyes say anything that might give a clue to her next move?"

"She said something about the internet."

"The internet? What about it?" Jenny directed her next question at Abraham. "Would you know what she's planning?"

"No," Abbie answered for him around a mouth full of cheese. "But they haven't really had the chance to talk."

"Nor is there an incentive for them to divulge information when they do."

"Crane," Jenny warned.

"I fail to see how she can remain so calm in a situation such as this!"

"You're right," Abbie said, wiping her hands on a paper towel. "A normal person would have pissed themselves over what we've seen. But we're not normal people. Honestly, we haven't been for a while. So if I seem calm on the outside, maybe its because I've had to deal with too much shit lately to freak out over it anymore. Still, I believe Abraham when he says he isn't league with Reyes."

Ichabod's face contorted under his beard. "While I am grateful for the...supernatural assistance in your recovery. Does Abraham's new-found benevolence extend to the rest of us?"

Abbie looked at the Horseman.

_You are asking me to protect the life of the man who destroyed mine?_

The leftenant chewed her lip before turning back to the others. "Let me get back to you on that one."

Crane jumped from his seat, no longer able to keep still.

"Look," Abbie's gaze followed the scholar's frenetic pacing. "We've got other problems: Reyes has seen us in the Archive. If she suspects that we've been using it as a knowledge base, she could be sabotaging it right now. We need to move everything to a secure location she can't find. "

"As much as it grieves me to lose all that we have collected, it is quite possible that Pestilence has already set a trap for us. She has had plenty of time to prepare before this evening. I feel it would be too dangerous to return."

"Then we go in _smart!"_ Her small fist hitting the table with a solid thunk, Abbie looked at each of the others in turn. "We need all the information we can get to fight her. I'm not willing to just walk away from what could be the answer to our problems."

Jenny nodded her head. "Trap or not, we need to try. We should go tonight. Hopefully, Reyes will expect us to still be upset about Abbie and holed up in a safe-house."

"Agreed."

Crane still didn't look convinced, but eventually he nodded as well. "The tunnels are extensive, it should be a small matter to park Miss Jenny's truck at a remote entrance not likely to be watched."

"Speaking of being 'watched', there was another thing Pestilence mentioned..." Abbie paused, her throat tight. "She said that she had evidence that could discredit me if I tried to tell anyone. I have to believe that there are other cops on the Force who are helping her. We can't trust _anyone_ at the precinct."

"I am deeply sorry, Leftenant," Crane said, his relentless pacing stuttering to a halt as he looked at her with compassion. "Your colleagues, your friends...this must be a terrible blow."

"I'm not going to cry about this," she lied. "But I can't help but wonder…how long have they been there? Like sleeper agents waiting for the signal. Did Corbin know? Was that why his files were so hard to find? Was that why-"

Jenny wrapped arms around her sister, trying to be strong enough for both of them. The two men stayed back, unsure of their place in the moment of grief.

"We're going to beat this thing," Jenny said, holding Abbie's tearful gaze. "We'll move the Archives, but…you won't be able to help."

"What? Of course I will—"

"You have enough to deal with," she said with a meaningful glance at the Horseman. "Crane and I'll take care of this. I'll get Nick to help out too."

Abbie wanted to protest more, but she knew her sister was right. If Abraham's loyalty was still questionable, having him know where their trove of knowledge lay was almost as good as handing Reyes a map. Uncertainty boiled in Abbie's stomach like acid.

Finally, she nodded.

Jenny was instantly back to all business, her militia training kicking in. "Stay low, stay armed. I have two more weapon caches set up, but we can't trust that they haven't been compromised. Do you have anything here?"

"I have a shotgun, my sidearm and rounds for each. A couple flash-bangs and phosphorous grenades, maybe." Abbie looked over at the Horseman in surprise. "Really? That can help a lot."

"What can help?" Ichabod asked suspiciously.

"Abraham says that he still has some guns from Andy's apartment. But it doesn't really matter. I can't _stay_ here, Reyes knows where I live."

"The cabin?"

"No, if she gets me there, she gets us all."

Abraham stretched his hand out to Abbie.

She shook her head. "She'll know about the Carriage house too."

He kept his hand steady.

"Oh," Abbie said softly, glancing quickly at the others. "Abraham says that he has another place for me to stay."

"Absolutely not, Leftenant!"

The Horseman seemed to grow larger as his silent anger filled the room.

"It's all right. This will give us a chance to divide and conquer, as they say." Abbie placed her hand in Abraham's and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I'll need to pack some more things."

"Abbie!"

"Go. We need to protect the Archives," she said. "Even from me."

Abraham gave Ichabod a last hard look before escorting his lady back down the hallway.

* * *

It took another half hour before they were ready to leave the house. Most of that time was spent trying to convince Abraham that Jenny was simply going to deliver his uniform to a cleaning service and not summarily burn it when he wasn't looking.

Abbie hid a smirk. Hot in a t-shirt or not, she had to admit the Horseman looked far less intimidating without his scarlet coat.

"It's going to be _fine_, we'll pick it up in a few days," she said for the third time as she filled a duffle bag with assorted firearms from her closet. "Besides, didn't you say you had other 'garments' you could wear?"

Abraham scowled, digging out the filthy jacket from the bag of clothes Abbie had collected and shrugging it back on. "The coat is far more than that."

"I know, but right now it's _more dirt_ than wool," she sidled up to him, running a hand across his chest. "No matter what you think, _you_ are much more than just your clothes."

The Horseman snatched her hand away, but forced himself to relax and thread his fingers more gently with hers in apology. "Forgive me."

"Are you alright?" Concern drew her brows together.

A muscle twitching along his jaw betrayed his agitation. "No," he answered truthfully.

"What's wrong?"

_Where should I begin?_ "I simply wish us to be safely away from here. My estate is some miles distant and each moment we delay brings us closer to dawn."

"Oh, right," Abbie said sheepishly.

The Horseman paused.

"What now?"

"Are you sure you need quite so…much?"

She looked down at the two suitcases. "Honey, this ain't nothin' but a weekend's worth in here. Do you know how much stuff it takes just to make my hair look this good?"

Abraham's face twisted in disbelief. "My horse is not a pack mule, you will need to be more _selective_."

"Fine!" Mills grumbled. "I'll have Jenny bring the rest later. And seriously you need to-huh?"

The confusion on her face was nearly comical as she plucked at his sleeves. "What?"

"I swear that coat was black with dirt a moment ago...but now it looks almost...that's really strange."

Now curious himself, Abraham looked down at his arms. The scarlet wool of his jacket looked as fresh as the day he had put it on. "It seems clear that your insistence on having my wardrobe laundered is unfounded."

"No, it's still dirty, it's just...not so bad now for some reason. Magic maybe?"

"Something to ponder on the journey, my Abigail. The moon is nearly set and we must away."

"Right. Dawn."

He watched her transfer some items from one bag to a smaller one with shoulder straps and nodded in approval. Since it seemed that she was nearly finished, he returned to the living room.

Ichabod was waiting.

"I see what you are doing here, fiend!" the scholar growled, pointing an accusing finger.

The Horseman paused, barely stifling the sudden urge to beat his former friend into the kitchen floor. Taking a featherless quill and paper from the nearby fridge, Abraham wrote a reply: _What do you think I am doing?_

"You seek to replace Katrina with Abigail."

_And if I were?_

"Your feud is with me, leave the Leftenant out of this."

_No._

"You shall not have her!"

_She came me willingly. You were foolish to take her for granted__._

Ichabod sputtered, his hands twisting into claws.

_Now, you will know the misery of loss as I have._ Abraham's shark-like grin of triumph was lost on his rival.

"You think I believe this is one of your petty _games_?"

_Perhaps. You will lose in any event._

"I moved the Jeep so we can-" Jenny paused in the front doorway. "What are you two doing?"

"Talking!" Ichabod snapped.

The Horseman chuckled silently, but crumpled the paper into a ball before placing it in his pocket. He turned toward the hallway to the bedroom.

"Alright! Alright, hold your horses," Abbie grimaced at her turn of phrase. "No need to yell, I'm right here."

She noticed the tension in the room. "Something wrong?"

"No," answered the men together, though Abbie was the only one to hear them both.

"Ok then…let's get moving. Jenny, I need you to take these cases with you and bring them to me later. My ride doesn't have a big enough…trunk."

The younger Mills sister's brows rose. "Gotcha."

"Crane, when you're moving the Archives, be sure to look for anything that has to do with the last two Horseman. Reyes would probably go for that stuff first. Don't forget to call in Hawley for an extra set of hands."

Ichabod nodded, shooting a glance over her shoulder. "Are you absolutely sure that this is the right course, Leftenant?"

"Everyone keeps asking me that," she grumbled with exasperation. "I don't know if being sure about anything really helps in the end. Everyone keeps changing the rules just when I think I've got them straight. I'll be fine though, Abraham will be with me."

"_That_ is what worries me."

She looked into his troubled blue eyes. "Listen: the Bible talks of _two_ Witnesses during the tribulations, so you know that we'll both be there to see this thing through to the end."

"You are right, of course," Crane said with a shaky smile. "I am just…"

"It'll all be ok, I promise."

Ichabod watched the woman he loved ride away once more with the Horseman of Death.

He could not help but think that when the Bible mentioned the Witnesses of the final conflict between good and evil, it failed to specify if they were on the same side...

* * *

_**AN:** Mmmm...some alone time for Abraham and Abbie in an unknown location, I wonder what evil I can get up to... _

_The next chapter was ready to go to my Betas for review - and then I decided to add a big chunk to it. So I'm a little behind schedule, but I hope to still squeeze under the wire. I don't think you guys will mind once you see the finished product, ;)_

_Thank you for all the great feedback and support! I would love to see any work you've done, the world needs more Brambie action!_


	13. Chapter 13

**Winner Takes All - Chapter 13**

_Spoilers up through Season 2 finale, ignores: Orion mini-arc and current Season 3._

_**AN:**__ Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)_

_SUPER BIG thanks to my Beta-Readers RS73 and Bittenfeld! _

_**Inspiration Soundtrack: **_

_"Unquiet Grave" - Penny Dreadful (cover by Arianna Deligianni) _

_"A Hole in the Sun" - Two Steps From Hell_

_**Join Team Brambie! See the FaceBook page for story news and fan-art!  
facebook/teambrambie**_

* * *

It was well after midnight when Daredevil crunched up the gravel drive of the Van Brunt summer cottage. The quaint two-story mansion sat in a grove of thick trees at the edge of a lake several miles from Sleepy Hollow's city limits. The foggy gloom from the water made the dark windows and whitewashed siding look ethereal in the moonlight.

Abraham smiled. Though he had not been to "Oakhaven" more than a handful of times, he did have fond memories of family and friends while staying there. It had been a pleasant surprise to find the building still intact after the intervening centuries. Henry had mentioned something about an estate trust that paid to keep the house relatively maintained, but Abraham had not thought to ask about the details.

The Horseman looked down to see Abbie's reaction, but she had fallen asleep on the journey. Nestled in the crook of his arm, she looked incredibly peaceful and he was suddenly loathe to wake her.

Carefully, he rolled his leg over Daredevil's neck and slid from the saddle, trying not to jostle the petite woman. The pale beast whickered and ambled off to the stable to see if it could scare up something warm (and furry) to eat.

The Horseman carried Abbie inside and settled her in the grand suite upstairs while he worked to secure the rest of the house. Neglect had made the rooms stale and allowed spiders to make merry mess of the darker corners. Sheets lay over the furniture like shrouds and he was glad, for once, he didn't have a nose when clouds of dust billowed at even the lightest touch. He was contemplating how much trouble it would be to hire new servants when he heard a scream.

Alarmed, the broad axe glowed hot as he snatched it up from the table, ready to dismember whatever stood in his way.

Nothing looked out of place in the parlor, nor did he see any lurking assailants elsewhere on the first floor.

Abbie's scream came again, this time accompanied by the bark of her service pistol.

Taking the stairs to her room three at a time, Abraham nearly shattered the door as he kicked it in.

Two bullets to his chest staggered him back against the wall, but he shrugged off the momentary sting.

The room was empty.

He looked around, still alert for danger but there was _nothing_.

Nothing but Abbie curled up and cowering in the corner like a hunted animal. She saw him and dropped her gun, her face a mask of tears.

"Abigail?" Instantly, his anger turned to dread; the strength of it made the blazing steel of his weapon gutter out like a candle. Abraham set his axe on the dresser and cautiously approach the distraught woman.

Her entire body shaking with sobs, Abbie rocked on her heels as she hid her face in her hands.

Abraham was at a loss. He had little experience with weeping women, but he had a faint memory of how his Welsh nanny would sing to him when he had a nightmare.

Carefully, he bent down and lifted Abbie from the floor, cradling her to his chest. She whimpered and latched onto him like he was the only thing solid in the world. Sitting in the padded armchair near the bed, Abraham settled her comfortably across his lap. Abbie continued crying into his collar as he hummed quietly under his breath, his hands rubbing circles on her back.

"All is well," he murmured. "I am here now."

Anxiety gnawed at his stomach, but he forced himself to let Abbie weep. He wanted nothing more than to find the source of her misery and tear it to pieces, but two hundred and fifty years as a prisoner in one form or another had taught him a harsh lesson in patience.

Gradually, Abbie's tears slowed to a stop but she kept her death grip on his coat as he sang to her softly.

"Better?" he asked after several minutes of calm.

Abraham felt her nod.

He brushed back the hair from her tear stained face. "Tell me, Beloved: what was it? What frightened you so?"

It took her a long time to answer. "I dreamed I was back in Purgatory."

Her terror made more sense. Abbie had told him what her brief time in the Twilight Realm had been like. Katrina had endured centuries of Purgatory's mental tortures, so it was no small wonder that the witch had gone mad.

"It was merely a nightmare," Abraham said, tightening his arms. He felt both relieved and frustrated: a _place_ wasn't an immediate danger, but also not something he could strike with an axe. "You are home safe with me, my Abigail."

She snuggled more comfortably in his lap, an unsteady sigh gusting across his throat.

"I'm sorry I shot you."

"Twice," Abraham chuckled. "I am sure you can recompense me later."

A shudder ran through her tiny frame, but it seemed she was finally starting to relax.

He looked down to see her poking a finger through the new bullet holes in his coat.

"And here I thought you liked my uniform," he teased gently.

"I do," she sniffled. "I'll have the cleaner patch it up."

"Ah, yes. The miraculous _Cleaner,_ once more."

"I can't do it, I might end up sewing the arm hole closed. I'm hopeless with a needle."

His warm laugh eased the last of the tension in her shoulders.

"My Lady should not have to do her own sewing."

"I'm not a Lady," she said, embarrassed.

He lifted her chin with a finger so she couldn't look away. "You are with me."

"I'm not _helpless;_ one of those snobby, simpering bit—"

"And I would never confuse you as such," Abraham said firmly to derail her growing offense. "I shudder to imagine you in my era: a dragon slayer among sheep. You are truly a warrior worthy of any heroic tale."

"Dragon slayer, huh?"

He was heartened by the shy smirk peeking at the corners of her mouth.

"My Lady Abigail: the Terror of all things Textile-"

The Horseman laughed again as she smacked him.

Pleasant silence settled between them as they cuddled together and he heard her breathing begin to even out. It was still early morning, but the strain of recent events had caught up with the petite woman and she was exhausted. Abraham didn't want to move, but he knew Mills would be twisted and stiff when she awoke if he allowed her to sleep in such a position. Gently, he gathered her up and carried her to the bed.

As he set her down, Abbie grabbed his hand when he tried to leave. "Don't go," she mumbled.

With a tender smile, he dutifully lay down and let her snuggle into his chest once more.

Her shirt had hiked up through the process of getting comfortable and the white star-shaped scar on her stomach was bright in the dark.

She trembled as his fingers traced the over the slick ridges that marred her perfect skin.

Abraham looked up, the question clear in his eyes.

"It's...nevermind."

"Abigail?"

"Forget it."

"It is the mark that binds us together." He gently cupped her chin so she would look at him. "Are you...are you shamed by it?"

"What? No! It's just..." Her eyes cast downward. "I was so close to dying, to actually being _dead_. It makes you think of all the things that..."

Abraham remembered the moment when his own life was slipping away. He had jumped at the offer of revenge Moloch had made, a choice of hatred and revenge against the best friend who had wronged him.

When Abbie had been bleeding to death, she had reached out with love.

To _him_.

"It makes you think about _who_ really matters most."

The Horseman swallowed past the hard lump in his throat. "You are a singular woman, Grace Abigail Mills. This world would not be whole without you."

"I don't want it without you either," she whispered.

Abraham felt a ghostly prickling behind his own eyes as he brushed away her tears with his thumb. She leaned into his hand, turning slightly to kiss his wrist.

The soft brush of her lips sent a static charge through his entire body and he froze. When Abbie looked up at him, her chocolate eyes were black with the absolute knowledge of what she had done.

Lingering over the pulse point to graze it lightly with her teeth, she deliberately kissed him again. The Horseman's breath became shaky as she worked her way to the palm of his hand. Abbie nuzzled his fingers, letting their calloused pads slide over her cheeks and lips.

Abraham groaned as he felt her lips wrap around his finger, slick and hot against the chill air.

He didn't want her to stop-

He wanted her to suck something else-

He wanted-

Images from his dreams flashed through his mind like an erotic parade as his heart thundered in his chest.

_There are no chains in the way now..._

Abruptly, Mills squeaked as the Horseman snatched his hand back and rolled her underneath him. He straddled her waist, his knees pressed deep into the mattress near her hips to keep balanced. His hands shook as he leaned forward and slowly pushed her shirt upward to just under her bra line. Heart in her mouth, Abbie felt his hand trace up the exposed skin of her stomach once more. The saliva she had left on his fingers made a cool trail across her belly, making her shiver with anticipation. Abraham paused just before he reached her breasts; flicking a glance back to hers, the question was clear in his hesitation.

Breathless herself, Abbie smiled and grasped his hand to guide it over the lace of her bra. She hissed as the nipple beneath the fabric sprang to life instantly from his touch.

The Horseman's other hand joined the first; kneading her breasts together, he used strong thumbs to rub the stiffened peaks to further sensitivity. The cream colored lace scratched at Abbie's skin, amping up the sensation to nearly painful levels. She felt like she was burning and he was adding fuel to the flame.

Mills whined when he drew his hands away, but was thankful they didn't go far. Tapered fingers traced across her ribs with a light feathery touch, sending tingles racing through her body and to the aching center between her legs.

The Horseman marveled at the contrast of his pale skin against the dark of her toned abdomen. He worked his way slowly down Abbie's writhing form to trace the ridges of her scar. Abraham felt an echo of his power still simmering under the surface, but put the fact aside to be pondered later.

He had more important things to focus on.

A surge of excitement whirled through him as he unhooked the button of her pants and tugged at the zipper. The cream lace of her matching panties was just visible and felt like silk against the tips of his fingers. He chuckled at Abbie's impatient huff, and stopped her from pushing her pants down for him.

"It has been quite some time for me, my dear. I would like to savor every moment."

She looked flush and conflicted, but finally gave him another brief nod. "Don't savor too long, I want..."

Blue eyes locked with hers in surprise. "What do you want Abigail?"

"I..."

"Yes?"

Wordlessly, her hand brushed over the bulging length of his erection and all plans of drawn out foreplay were seared from his mind. Abraham groaned as the pressure in his trousers became nearly unbearable.

He sat up, quickly stripping off his scarlet coat and black t-shirt to toss them across the room. A hiss escaped through his teeth as her clever fingers worked at the buttons on his pants, feeding his urgency. Abraham bit back a sigh when his cock finally sprang free and into her waiting grasp.

"Oh!" Abbie said, startled.

Dazed and fighting to not thrust roughly into her hand, the Horseman blinked down at her.

"You're not _circumcised._"

"I am not..._mutilated_, no," Abraham said in breathless confusion.

"I..." she stared in frank curiosity. "Yours is the first I've seen with...well..."

"Oggle later, Beloved." The Horseman's chuckle was velvety as he reached down to guide her hands up his shaft. "Unless you have changed your mind about waiting?"

She thought he felt like hot steel under her fingers and grinned as Abraham shuddered. With his silent instruction, she smoothed down the silky foreskin to expose the head of his cock. Pre-cum glistened on the tip like dew.

Abbie smeared his essence on her thumb. "I think we've waited long enough..."

The Horseman gasped like a drowning man as she brought the salty drop to her mouth.

A heartbeat later, her jeans were being dragged roughly down her hips. There would surely be bruises on her thighs where he shoved them apart, but the thought whisked away in the howling need to feel Abraham deep inside her.

He was _big_.

She had known that the moment she had wrapped her hands around his scorching cock, but to have the mass of it touching her intimate places brought the reality into sharp focus. For an instant, Abbie was concerned.

Sensing her discomfort, Abraham held onto the last thread of his self-control. "I will endeavor not to hurt you, but...we can still stop if you are unsure."

Seconds from intimacy that they both desperately desired, she loved him more for the offer. Smiling, Abbie swallowed her nerves and grabbed his hips to guide him forward. "No, Baby. I want this."

A crisp nod and she felt him press against her more firmly.

Her slick folds sliding over his erection made the Horseman's breath catch and he forced himself to move slowly as she stretched to accommodate him. Abbie was incredibly wet, but he grunted with the effort to push inside. He paused and withdrew partially before moving forward again, allowing her juices to ease the passage of his cock.

Moaning as the pleasure overtook the brief pain, Abbie tilted her hips, giving him a better angle to sink even deeper into her body.

The incredible tightness nearly drove Abraham over the edge by the time he felt the wall of her cervix. He took a minute to calm his hammering pulse and opened his eyes to see the woman below him.

Panting and flush, her brown irises sparkled in the dim light as she returned his gaze.

"You are so lovely," he whispered reverently. "If there were but only one moment left to me of eternity, I would sell my soul all over again to be right here...with you."

Abbie's happy smile burned away the last of the shadows clutching his heart. "There's no place I'd rather be, either."

The moment grew, filled with unspoken feelings that they never expected to have for each other.

A Beauty and her Apocalyptic Beast.

Abbie shifted under his weight, breaking the reverie between them by sending lancets of pleasure up his spine. His deep moan spurred the devilish side of Mills to rock her hips upwards again, if only to hear the delightful noise.

Abraham started to move on his own and eased himself most of the way out of his lover as slowly as he had entered. When only the tip remained, he surged forward in a firm thrust, sinking his cock back home into the slick heat of Abbie's body. Her gasp kindled a primal glee in the Horseman, and he repeating the motion until they built up a rhythm that made the bed slam into the plastered wall.

Lifting her legs to hook her ankles behind the small of his back, Abbie gave encouraging nudges with her heels.

Each withdrawal and return was easier as her body adjusted. Soon, the pace had Abraham rising to the edge of oblivion once again.

Suddenly, Mills twisted like a snake and rolled them over to place herself on top. She grinned and used the Horseman's moment of surprise to impale herself on his cock, driving him hard and deep into her core.

Abraham cried out, grabbing her hips as he blinked the stars from his vision. "_Hells' Fire!_" he gasped.

Abbie moved one of her hands to stroke the sensitive bundle of nerves above her sex. Immediately, her moans became louder, punctuated by the hard sounds of her pounding him into her body.

Through a slitted gaze, Abraham watched her luscious and buxom curves glistening with sweat bounce as she rode him. Abbie leaned backward, driving him even deeper and stealing the last of his breath as she reached back to fondle his testicles where they pressed against her rear.

The Horseman roared as his orgasm was pulled from the base of his spine and exploded like a thousand white sparks behind his eyes. His muscles locked up and held Abbie tight to his hips as he filled her with his seed.

A few practiced strokes of her finger against her clit and Abbie quickly followed him into ecstasy, the feel of her clenched walls around his throbbing cock made him groan her name anew.

After the world began to come back into focus, Abbie collapsed onto his chest, boneless with bliss.

Abraham could hear their hearts still thundering together like wild horses and he unashamedly basked in Abbie's glow, feeling more content than he had ever felt in his lifetime. _Any_ lifetime.

"That was...that was really...mmm..."

He smirked at the debauched expression on Abbie's shining face. "Glad to be of service, my Lady."

She snorted, playfully smacking him on the arm. A sudden yawn cracked her jaw open wide.

The Horseman stroked back her sweat-slicked hair tenderly. "Rest now, Beloved. I will be here when you awaken."

Abbie's response was mumbled as she rolled over to nestle more comfortably into his side.

He watched her drift into an untroubled sleep, a pleased smile on her kissable lips.

Unbidden, his own mind wandering back to reflect on what he had said earlier before they had gotten distracted. Being honest with himself, Abraham realized that Abigail would not have survived his time period. Even if she had been miraculously fortunate to avoid being a slave, her strong personality would have likely led to the gallows.

The Horseman had to further admit that if he had still been the man he was before he 'died', he would likely have not even acknowledged her existence...

He would never have gotten to know her fiery wit.

Never seen her fierce determination when facing a powerful foe.

Never seen how her eyes shined in the throes of passion.

Never felt how their souls entwined like branches of the same tree...

_Never..._

The chill of how thin the margin of Fate truly was killed the last of his post orgasm euphoria.

Abraham waited another hour before he gently untangled himself from her slack limbs, got dressed and left.

* * *

_**AN:**__ I had some pretty serious questions about how this chapter should play out since it was the first real Brambie lemon. __Hopefully I struck a good balance between Abraham's character (noble from a very patriarchal time period) and modern sensitivities about sexual consent. He cares about Abbie and wouldn't want to upset her, but I also don't think it would cross his (arrogant) mind that he should stop if she changed her mind mid-stream about having__ sex with him. (I guess it's a good thing for all of us that she wants to climb him like a tree, ;) )_

_"Unquiet Grave" is a really old English song, but the specific cover I listed is actually a slightly modified version (sung from a female perspective). I especially loved the verse:_

_'Tis I, 'tis I, thine own true love_  
_That sits all on your grave_  
_I ask one kiss from your sweet lips_  
_And that is all that I crave._

_Different versions of the song were used in the "Penny Dreadful" series on Showtime, so it can be a bit creepy. However, I thought it seemed kind of sweet and somewhat appropriate for Abraham._


	14. Chapter 14

**Winner Takes All - Chapter 14**

_Spoilers up through Season 2, ignores Orion arc and Season 3_

_**AN:**__ Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)_

_**Inspiration Soundtrack: **_

_"The Fallen" - 'Transformers 2' Soundtrack_

_"John Mourns" - 'John Wick' Soundtrack_

_**Join Team Brambie! See the FaceBook page for story news and fan-art!  
facebook/teambrambie**_

* * *

Reyes heard the clop of hooves and grinned.

"It's about time," she said, turning to greet her fellow Horseman. "Nice shirt. Get your girlfriend settled?"

Abraham scowled at the dark haired woman. "She is well enough, though she will carry a scar for the rest of her life."

"We all have those, Brother. She'll have more than that before we're done here."

"I imagine your plans are still in motion?"

"Aside from a few minor snags, everything is proceeding well, even _without_ your help. War would be proud of how things are going. Too bad he got stupid so close to the goal line."

"When will the next Rider emerge?"

"Any day now, I think," Conquest said with a sly smile. "Famine and I have a bet running. Odds are six-to-one, if you're interested."

"Your depravity knows no bounds."

"Perhaps not, but it _is_ a great time to be alive!"

Abraham's chuckle was without humor.

"Oh come on, we've been waiting centuries for this. Aren't you the _least_ bit excited to see all that patience pay off?"

"Your delight in wanton destruction is something I will never understand."

"Eh, it's the simple things," she quipped with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Where is the necklace that was taken from Abigail?"

"Necklace? Oh!" she exclaimed, pulling the emerald pendant from inside her jacket. "Such a pretty thing. Henry did a good job, but I'm afraid that the enchantment is fading. With War not around to recharge it…well, I think you can imagine what'll happen eventually."

Abraham reached for the chain, but she held it back at the last moment.

"Pardon me," Reyes said, licking her thumb and rubbing it across the stone. "There was still some blood on it. All better!"

Death growled and snatched the necklace from the other Rider. Suspicious, he examined the jewel but could not see any signs of obvious tampering.

"There was a problem with the chain: one of the guards used bolt cutters. Sorry," she said insincerely at his furious expression. "If it's any consolation, I'm sure he was one of the many you left in pieces on your way through the warehouse."

Taking the linen handkerchief that Abbie had given him, Abraham wrapped the damaged necklace securely inside before placing it in his pocket.

"Anyway, I suggest you recover your head soon. With the spell wearing off, you won't be able to whisper sweet nothings to your little darling."

He didn't correct her mistaken assumption. "Why concern yourself over such things?"

"Because I believe in true love!" She smirked at his disgusted snort.

"Do not mock me, Conquest!"

"But you make an easy target, always so angry! Maybe you need to spend more time in the bedroom, work out some of that _aggression_—"

The blazing axe swiped through empty air as Reyes shape-shifted into a cloud of ash before it could strike. Her laugh echoed as she reformed a few feet out of reach.

"You know? You could make it easier on all of us if you just picked up some girl off of the street."

"I will not spend eternity with a woman I care nothing about."

"Such the romantic," Reyes said, her grin bleeding into an ugly sneer. "Nobody says you have to keep the bint forever, just long enough to fulfill her purpose. After that, you can rut yourself through the rest of the world or pine away for your little Witness. It makes no difference to me."

"You suggest I bind myself to a fatted calf?"

"It would be more _expedient_ since we're on a schedule. I like Mills, but she is a tough case to crack. Are you sure you enjoy the frustration?"

"Just take care of your part of the plan, I will take care of my own affairs."

Reyes' yellow eyes glittered. "Suit yourself."

* * *

Abbie woke feeling pleasantly sore and tried to stretch out the bruised muscles without blushing too hard.

_Save the World, Ride a Horseman_, she snickered to herself. _Maybe I should make T-shirts. Too bad I'd be the only one who got the joke..._

_Speaking of..._

Abraham was absent from his side of the bed.

Frowning momentarily, Mills got up and quickly dressed against the chill in the morning air.

Wandering through the corridors, Abbie was struck once more at how wealthy Abraham's family must have been in their time. It was a far cry from Ichabod's circumstances when he awoke. The scholar had brought only a rapier whit and the clothes on his back. Though Crane tried to help out, the majority of the financial burden fell on Mills to keep them fed. Looking at the gold-plated accents of the carved fireplace mantle, she mused that it might be nice to be on the pampered side for a change.

Mills finished a circuit of the house to map it out in her mind, still keeping an eye out for the missing Horseman. She didn't remember arriving and had no idea where they were, but she trusted that Abraham wouldn't have saved her life just to serve her up to the enemy now.

A shiver worked its way down Abbie's spine. The pragmatic side of her was uncomfortable with how quickly things were moving between them. She had never been one for rash decisions, but when it came to Abraham...Mills had to admit that she wasn't as careful as she really should be. Alone, she could think clearly about how _bad_ her situation could be if Abraham was lying. But whenever the Horseman was near...an almost static charge would run through her veins, making her feel truly _alive_ like never before.

It was addictive and made it hard to remember he was dangerous.

Embarrassment stained her cheeks when she thought of what she would say to Crane when next they saw each other. _I slept with your former BFF. He's got a great body for a dead guy. I see why you married Katrina, supernatural lovers are the best!_

Abbie rolled her eyes at her flippant internal dialog. Crane would be angry, probably hurt. But if they were going to work together to save the world, he'd just have to get over it.

Still exploring, she found a covered breezeway that connected the main building to a large shed behind the estate. She could hear noise of someone moving around inside and furtively checked the position of the sun. Mid-morning light slanted through a thick forest of old oak trees that circled the property, but the back of the mansion remained in shadow. Wishing she had brought her sidearm, Abbie cautiously approached the door to listen. The tension leaked out of her shoulders as she recognized Abraham humming to himself amongst the clack of wooden blocks.

Peeking inside, she found the Horseman shirtless and scowling at a particularly stubborn cord of firewood.

"You'd think that axe of yours would scare trees into throwing their limbs at you in self defense."

He startled from his deep thoughts, but then laughed. "A pity that this particular log has not heard of my reputation."

The muscles rippled across Abraham's back with his downward swing as the block finally splintered in surrender.

He turned and smiled at her faintly dazed expression. "Your slumber was untroubled? I did not wake you?"

"What? Oh, no, no I slept just fine. Well, after...after the nightmare, I guess."

"I would protect you from such things if I were able. But I fear that dreams are outside of my purview."

"It's ok," Abbie smiled sheepishly. "Time should help with that."

"Indeed."

Getting a better look as her eyes adjusted, Mills figured the shed adjoined with a stable. Various pieces of equipment, tools, and tack for horses lined the walls. The faint smell of stale hay and rust tickled her nose making her want to sneeze.

Thin lines of golden light were slicing through the cracks of the shed walls. "Are you ok to be in here?"

Abraham's expression warmed at her concern. "It stings, but I have endured worse."

"Yeah...sorry about that..."

"Do not fret, it is in the past. You were much more..._generous_ than I would have been, had our positions been reversed."

Memories of the slain Masons flickered through Abbie's mind. "I can imagine."

He sobered. "Forgive me, but you truly cannot."

"You don't blame us for keeping you locked up, do you?"

"No," he said, sinking the axe into the next block of wood before turning to approach her.

Abbie's gaze lingered on the muscles of his chest, slick with sweat. "Are you still angry about it?"

"Not as much as I should be, perhaps," he said, tipping her chin upward with a finger. "It did allow me to spend time with you..."

Her eyes grew dark as she met his blue.

"Come, I do not wish to be trapped _here_ as the sun rises further. We have much to accomplish before evening returns."

* * *

Oakhaven was large as summer homes went, but they still managed to get the main living areas in order relatively quickly.

Abbie thought the house was truly beautiful: the ornate carvings and crown molding all sported an acorn theme fitting with the mansion's name. Despite adoring the colonial charm of the building, she was also grateful that a previous owner had renovated the bathrooms to semi-modern standards.

To keep busy, Abbie scoured the kitchen and made an inventory of the items they still needed for an extended stay. The house did not have electricity nor did Abraham require food, so the supply list consisted mostly of ready-to-eat snacks and ammunition.

"We have to assume that Reyes is tracking my phone and bank accounts. The dash-cash I had in my closet will cover some, but not all of the things we need. If we meet Jenny, she can bring us more."

"War worked to secure the funds from my family's estate. I believe, the records should still be at Fredrick's Manor." Abraham reached up to pull a large tarnished plate off of the wall. "Until then, perhaps we can sell a few of my heirlooms."

Abbie stared. "We can't sell your stuff! This is...this is all you have left of your family!"

Setting down the platter on the table, the Horseman turned and placed his hands on her hips to draw her against his chest. "_You_ are my family now, lovely Abigail. These are but shadows of my past that I would gladly give for a future with you."

"Oh..." Her throat hurt with the effort not to cry. "But-"

"This surprises you?" Abraham looked puzzled.

"I just... Other than Grace's journal, I don't really have anything of my ancestors. It seems a shame to...I mean, these are _relics_."

"Myself included?" He teased gently.

The effort drew a brief smile from her lips. "I'm serious though."

"I know, Beloved. However, I truly mean what I say as well. The memories I have will be enough. We have far greater needs if we are to stand against Conquest."

She absently trailed her fingers across the carved plate. "Maybe we can pawn just a few of them, with the idea we can buy them back when things are settled?"

Abraham studied her quietly before nodding. "That is agreeable, if it would please you."

"It would."

"Then this 'relic' is satisfied."

"You do have a few centuries on me."

"I do. You seem to not mind it over-much."

Abbie appeared to give him a thorough appraisal. "Well, you _are_ spry for an old man."

"Indeed," he purred into her ear, sending shivers that pulled the muscles low in her body.

Her giggle was breathless, but she managed to regain some composure.

"There is a pawn shop on Concord that specializes in antiques. I know the owner, he should give us a good deal."

Abraham nodded and tightened his embrace for a moment before releasing her to start gathering other items to sell.

The majority of the work was complete by mid afternoon and a small pile of valuables had been stacked on the kitchen table. Despite all they had accomplished, Abbie was still restless and it rasped against the Horseman's nerves like sandpaper.

"What troubles you?" he asked after watching Abbie check her watch for the tenth time.

"I'm just…I'm used to having some kind of plan. I know you're worried about Reyes finding us, but sitting here and waiting is driving me crazy."

Abraham blinked in surprise. He realized that in all the time that Katrina had stayed at the carriage house, he hadn't wondered what she did to occupy herself while he wasn't there. The witch hadn't voiced any specific complaints, other than the 'captivity' itself. It hadn't occurred to him that she might have been _bored_.

Delightful as the idea of keeping Abbie tied to the bed might have been, the Horseman knew he was going to have to come up with something constructive to siphon off her excess energy. Watching her pace like a caged tiger made him think that she wasn't going to be satisfied with quiet feminine hobbies like needlepoint and gardening…

A grin curled his lip in sudden inspiration.

"Where are we going?" Abbie squeaked as he grabbed her hand and dragged her from the room.

They had skipped cleaning the formal dining hall since it was only the two of them in residence. However, the cavernous size made it perfect for what Abraham had planned.

Reaching up over the large marble fireplace, the Horseman pulled down a pair of crossed sabers from a heraldic display.

Abbie stared at him as he presented her with the tarnished hilt of one of the blades. "A sword? But I don't know how to use this."

"Then it is fortunate that I do. Otherwise, how would you learn?" he smirked at her stunned expression.

"Are you going to teach me _Bonetti's Defense_?" she cocked an eyebrow in answer.

For a moment he was confused and then the name triggered a memory of their movie night. Abraham smiled. "'I thought it fitting given the terrain.'"

Abbie laughed, her eyes shiny with excitement. "What about _Capo Ferro _and _Agrippa_?"

"I shall teach you all that I know. Having skill with a bladed weapon could serve you well in the battle against Conquest," the Horseman said, drawing his sword up in salute.

Giving her saber a few tentative swings, Abbie suddenly looked grim with determination. "You better not go easy on me!"

Abraham chuckled, bowing deeply: "_As you wish_."

* * *

_**AN:**__ Yay! More Princess Bride references!_

_I can't believe that this story has been going for a year! I couldn't do it without the faith and support of you all, THANK YOU! _


	15. Chapter 15

**Winner Takes All - Chapter 15**

_Spoilers up through Season 2, ignores Orion arc and Season 3_

_**AN:**__ Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)_

_This is a bit of a fluffy chapter, heh. _

_**Inspiration Soundtrack: **_

_"There is a Place" - 'Penny Dreadful' Soundtrack  
__"Welcome to the Grand Guignol" - 'Penny Dreadful' Soundtrack  
"Mirena" - 'Dracula Untold' Soundtrack_

_**Join Team Brambie! See the FaceBook page for story news and fan-art!  
facebook/teambrambie**_

* * *

Daredevil felt his master's tension and champed at the bit, shifting his weight nervously.

_She has been gone too long_, Abraham thought as he watched from the shadows of a brick building.

He let his senses reach out and follow the thread connecting his spirit with Abbie's. The link had been a surprise discovery, a benefit no doubt forged when he saved her life by sharing blood. The bond was subtle, providing him only an idea of where she was and her general emotional state, yet it gave him peace of mind to know that he was never far from his Lady.

Abbie had not commented on feeling anything strange, so he doubted that she even knew the connection existed. Unsure of how she would react to the news, Abraham decided to keep the new wrinkle in their relationship a secret for the present time.

Needing to distract himself, the Horseman checked the small device she had given him to tell time. Only minutes had passed, but he felt like it had already been years out of her company. An ache settled in his bones, a need that could only be cured by the tiny Witness...

Abraham ripped himself forcefully from the memory of her fingers on his skin. He needed to remain alert for danger, despite how pleasant it felt to daydream.

He had remembered the shop she was in as being a prosperous establishment selling feed and farm equipment. Now, it dealt in mechanisms of death rather than life. Abbie had stated that it was the best supplier of armaments and bladed weaponry. Abraham wished to test this claim for himself, steadfastly denying that he just wanted to stay by her side.

After a brief argument, the Horseman finally agreed that trying to purchase wares while having a headless escort would likely make the vendor uncooperative. Thus, he was sulking in the alley and keeping watch for Conquest's agents.

Suddenly, the pale horse under him jolted and wheeled defensively.

"Your pardon gov'nor!" called out the young man who had stumbled into his mount. "Nice evenin' for a ride!"

Abraham startled in surprise, holding the nightmare back from biting the man's face off purely by reflex.

"Happy Founders Week!" The oblivious stranger raised a glass bottle in salute before teetering off into the street, singing a mangled version of a familiar tavern song.

For several long moments, Abraham stared after the young man and noticed that other people were wandering past his hiding place in clothing that befit his own era.

Daredevil whickered as his rider slowly climbed down from the saddle.

Cautiously, the Horseman stepped out from the shadows and into the light of the streetlamps. As he watched, more and more people arrived in the town center.

"What are you _doing_?" came an angry hiss behind him. Abbie glanced at the Sleepy Hollow residents only yards away in barely disguised panic. "Do you want someone to see you?"

Abraham looked at the nervous leftenant and the idea struck him like a hammer. He smiled, offering his hand to her. "Perhaps."

Confusion wrinkled Abbie's pretty face as she stared at him.

"Great costume!" a lady in a calico frock smiled at the pair as she walked by, a lace parasol spinning over her shoulder.

"She didn't scream..." Mills whispered, stunned. "They can _see_ you?"

"It seems they can."

"But how?!"

Without a word, Abraham reached into his pocket and pulled out the broken necklace.

"Katrina's pendant?"

"Yes, I...recovered it this morning."

"Recovered?" she shook her head, trying not to think of how many bodies he must have had to search through. "That's amazing! I didn't know it would work like that. I thought it had to be worn by...well, someone _alive_. "

"As did I," he said, putting the magical jewel safely away. "Apparently, simple proximity is enough for the enchantment to function."

"Good to know." Abbie noticed he still was holding out his other hand. "What? We got what we came for, we can leave."

"True," the Horseman said. "But the evening is too lovely to spend locked away and I find myself with a rare opportunity."

Her immediate wariness made him smile, but she took his hand anyway. "To do what?"

"Be _seen_."

* * *

His steps were careful at first, but as it became clear that the pendant's magic was stable, Abraham started to relax.

So many years alone in the darkness, Abbie's heart ached to see him taking in the festive atmosphere like a starving man. Unlike Crane's incessant chatter about inaccuracies of the reenactment industry, Abraham simply enjoyed the moment. Laughter and music filled the air, and for a blessed few minutes, Abbie nearly forgot that they were on the brink of the Apocalypse. She began to smile more freely, pointing out the sights as they walked with their arms linked like teenagers on a date.

Abraham insisted on buying Abbie a caramel apple with some of the money left over from their ammunition purchases. She tried to protest, but quickly realized he was getting as much enjoyment out of watching her lick her fingers clean as she was in eating the treat. "Later," she promised in a seductive whisper.

Abraham drew her hand to his mouth as if to kiss it. "I look forward to it, my Lady."

The night was amazing. The Horseman could barely contain his satisfaction with being able to finally spend time in the open with his lady. Centuries had literally passed since he had felt this level of contentment. There was no blood, no one was screaming at him, no one was attacking or threatening him. They were simply a couple like any other: free to hold, to cherish and to love.

It was almost worth the cost of his soul.

Abraham knew that it wouldn't last. Even now, he could feel the eyes upon them. Conquest would scheme to turn his weakness for Abbie into an advantage.

A weapon against the Witnesses.

The Horseman of Death, destined to bring about the End of Days or not, swore that he would not allow Abbie to get hurt.

One area of the festival they wandered through was dedicated to rustic competitive games. Abbie couldn't hold back her giggles at Abraham's expression on being challenged to an axe-throwing contest. It was unfair really, but she didn't complain when the embarrassed 'Smith' had to hand over the largest stuffed animal in his booth.

"Do you think Daredevil will like his girlfriend?" Abbie asked playfully around the enormous fluffy unicorn.

Eyeing the plush monstrosity, Abraham shrugged. "I am unsure. I think it more likely he would try to eat her."

The angelic bells of Mills' laughter helped soothe the last of his trepidation from the meeting with Conquest. He would have to address the other Horseman's expectations of him soon enough, but not tonight...

A loud boom made him jump and pull the petite woman to his side protectively.

"It's ok, it's ok! Look," she said pointing up to the colorful blooms in the night sky. "It's just fireworks!"

"Fireworks?" the Horseman said with wide eyes. The glowing embers shone in colors and arrays he hadn't known were even possible since first seeing the Chinese wonder in his youth. "I...it is...quite stunning," he said honestly, trying to get his heart to settle once more.

She still looked worried, but he squeezed her hand with feigned confidence.

Abbie suddenly gave an excited yip and cut through the crowd by using the unicorn like a cavalry charge. Following dutifully in her wake, the Horseman spotted a large canvas stall that appeared to be her destination. Racks of period clothing lined the interior of the tent and she immediately pulled out a soldier's scarlet uniform, holding it up to Abraham's to compare.

"Here! Try this on."

The Horseman's brow quirked. "Is my own coat not enough?"

"Humor me. If you have a second coat, then maybe you'll let me get the original one cleaned finally."

"I will comply, _if_ you agree to try on something of _my_ choosing."

Abbie looked suspicious, but finally nodded. "Deal."

A few minutes later, the Horseman returned with a pale ivory dress that was laden with exquisite embroidery. Despite herself, Abbie reached out to touch the silky pattern of wildflowers before shaking her head. "No way, there's...I can't wear that!"

"We had an agreement, Abigail."

"But, I'm not-it's too beautiful!"

"As are you," Abraham smiled down at her. "Now, if you please?"

"I'm not...," she replied reflexively but her resolve crumbled under his charm and took the gown. After some assistance from the tailor's wife, Abbie stumbled out from the curtained changing nook.

It was ridiculous. Cinched in the corset and sporting yards of unnecessary fabric, Abbie felt like a duck dressed up as a swan. But when she saw Abraham's face, her teeth snapped shut on the complaints she had been about to make.

The man looked like he had been kicked by his horse. "You are absolutely stunning, my Lady," he finally managed in a rough voice after several attempts to speak.

"Thank you, my Lord." Abbie blushed harder as she dipped in a tiny curtsy. "Can I get out of this now?"

"Later," he said in echo of her earlier promise. Abraham tore his avid gaze from her curves to hand the tailor a stack of bills. "Tradesman, I believe this will suffice for the Lady's dress and my new uniform coat?"

"Y-yes! Of course!"

"Abraham!"

The Horseman placed his finger on Abbie's lip to silence her protests, before continuing to address the tailor. "May I also trouble you to watch over our noble steed for a few moments?"

The older man glanced at the giant stuffed unicorn with an odd expression, but smiled indulgently at the obvious hint.

"T'would be my pleasure, my Lord."

Abraham returned his attention to his exasperated partner and she cheekily nipped his fingers still pressed to her lips.

"Manners of a goat," he teased in a low voice. "You shall pay for that in ways that will have you screaming."

Her mouth went suddenly dry at his tone, the annoyance from earlier melting away in a wash of heat. "Promise?"

"I do. But first..." the Horseman bowed deeply, holding out his hand. "Dearest Abigail, would you honor me with a dance?"

Abbie was confused for a moment before she saw him indicate the quartet of musicians playing for the crowd.

"Oh, no!" she shook her head violently. "I let you get me into this dress, but you can forget dancing!"

He kept his hand steady, but a slight frown of disappointment creased his brow.

"Please, indulge me. I have spent the better part of a year chained in one place and we do not know how long this reprieve will last. I believe a dance is not too great a boon?"

Abbie swallowed hard, glancing between the swirling couples and the waiting Horseman. Guilt pricked at the back of her eyes like unshed tears.

"Ok, _fine_. It's just…I haven't danced since Prom."

"Is that something of concern?"

"Well, perhaps for your toes, maybe."

His amused smile helped clear some of the shadows from his expression. "I will start slowly."

* * *

Jenny looked out at the crowd of costumed people. The festival was a double-edged sword: enough people to hide in, but more people to see you as well.

She checked her watch, counting the minutes down to when her contact was supposed to arrive.

_Contact_, she snorted.

"I knew you missed me, Mills," came the smooth voice behind her.

"As much as I miss a bad rash, Hawley."

The blond treasure-hunter pouted. "You cut me deep, you really do."

"You only wish that I did," Jenny purred into his ear, delighting in how he actually blushed. _Not so hardened after all... _

_Well maybe if there were a few minutes to spare..._

"You bring my stuff?"

"You bring the money?"

"The Apocalypse is coming and you're worried about your retirement?" She arched a graceful brow.

"The Apocalypse _is_ coming, which is why I'm spending my retirement _now_."

"If you helped as much as you complain, we can prevent things going to Hell. Literally."

Hawley's blue eyes stared down into hers as she handed him the envelope of large bills in return for a storage key. "You know that's not my gig, Mills."

"No," she agreed with a sad smile. "But I had...nevermind."

He took her hand as she turned to leave. "Come with me," he pleaded. "We can hit the beaches in Argentina or sail to New Zealand. Hell, we could go see the damn penguins migrate! We don't have to stay here-"

Jenny stopped him with a look. "What don't you understand? This is the _end of the world_ we're talking about! There won't _be_ a minimum safe distance. Not for the penguins, not for any of us! We have to stop it, _here!_ _Now!_"

"What makes you think you can?" he asked harshly.

"Nothing. But I can't just sit back and..."

Hawley blinked, looking over his shoulder at whatever attracted her attention. "Mills?"

Her eyes snapped back to his. "You need to go. Now."

"Wha-?"

"Stay away from the armory and do whatever you...well, _whatever_. I need to go check on someone."

"Who?" the rogue asked, but she was already trotting off without another glance.

* * *

_**AN:**__ I thought this one was going to be short, but I somehow managed to almost meet the word-goal! This is only about half of the original Ch15, but it got way too long and this was the logical break point. I have been thinking about this scene since pretty close to the very start, so it feels great to finally get it out for others to see. _

_I love hearing back from you all through the reviews and comments - writing is such a personal labor that sometimes we wonder if we're all a bit crazy and nobody is interested in our own particular flavor of Prozac. You all are an inspiration!_


	16. Chapter 16

**Winner Takes All**

_Spoilers up through Season 3 mid-season finale_

_**AN:**__ Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)_

_**Inspiration Soundtrack: **__"A Golden Crown" - 'Game of Thrones: Season 1' Soundtrack_

_**Join Team Brambie! See the FaceBook page for story news and fan-art!  
facebook/teambrambie**_

* * *

The voice barely carried over the continuing festival noises outside: "That's a little formal for you, isn't it?"

Abraham's face tightened as he turned around from the jewelry counter. "And a pleasant evening to you, as well, Miss Mills."

The Horseman appeared to be unarmed, but Jenny still kept her joints loose in case he made a move. She had seen Daredevil lurking outside and expected to walk into a scene of carnage. Instead, she had stumbled to a halt by the unexpected sight of a _whole_ Horseman. If she hadn't recognized his face, she would have thought she had the wrong man. "Just surprised to _see_ you here."

He grunted, moving from the display of glittering chokers he had been perusing. "It is, as they say: 'a free country'. Where is Ichabod?"

"He's..._working,"_ she said cryptically. Jenny didn't think it would be wise to let Abraham know exactly _what_ Ichabod was researching in the newly relocated archives. Since Abbie had ridden away with his former friend-turned-Harbinger, the scholar had been obsessed with finding a way to break whatever spell had captivated her sister.

"Where's Abbie?" Jenny countered.

The Horseman's expression was guarded. He had not wanted to leave his Lady's side, but the jewelry store had beckoned him like a siren while Abbie was occupied at the grocer's. "She is procuring the last of our supplies."

"You left her _alone_?"

"I would know if she were in danger. Have no fear, your sister is quite able to defend herself from most threats." His blue eyes were cold in his handsome face. "I will take care of those she cannot."

"That so? And you're in here for what?" Jenny pointedly looked around at the jewelry display cases. "Christmas shopping?"

Abraham seemed distinctly uncomfortable. "My business is my own."

"You don't seem the bangles and earrings type...so it's for a _girl_? Does _Abbie_ know about that?" The idea that the Horseman might be unfaithful somehow angered Jenny more than the fact he was technically a monster.

"It is _for _Abigail," he growled defensively. "I wished to give her a...token of my affections."

"Wow, really?" Jenny took a step back, her brows suddenly in her hairline. "All that time you spent together, I thought you knew her better than that."

"What do you mean?"

"Abbie isn't into flashy stuff."

"Our conversations do not stray into what treasures she may appreciate." The Horseman admitted with a frustrated scowl. "Pray tell, what would _your_ educated suggestion be?"

The younger Mills frowned, debating. Finally her expression softened. "You really care for her, don't you?"

He took a moment and met her gaze seriously. "Yes, I do."

Jenny chewed her lip for a minute and then seemed to come to a decision. "Things were tough while we were growing up. We understand that a gift doesn't have to be expensive to be perfect, especially if it's one from the heart." Suddenly, her face twisted into a grimace: "Oh, and don't give her an _actual_ heart, by the way. That would be gross and pretty creepy."

She swore that he rolled his eyes. "I am a man of means, Abigail will want for nothing. She should have the finer things she deserves."

"Look, I'm telling you that's not her deal. I made a ring out of a silver quarter once in middle school and gave it to her on her birthday. It turned out way too big, but she _still_ has it in her jewelry box all these years later." Jenny snorted. "Abbie values _sentiment _over price. Trust me, if you really want to make her happy: get something that would have significance to just the two of you. Something that has _meaning_."

Abraham looked thoughtful, then nodded. "I thank you for your advice."

"Sure," she said, watching him closely. "I have to ask you something else."

He sighed, internally resigned to answering questions from the Mills sisters until the end of his days.

"Can we really trust you?"

The Horseman stood quietly, his jaw set. "You can trust that I will always protect Abigail."

"Even if that means the rest of the world has to burn?"

"If that is what it takes."

Jenny frowned. She opened her mouth to say something more but they were interrupted by an older man in jewelers' spectacles.

"May I help you?" he said with a professional smile.

After tossing a sideways glance at Mills, Abraham removed a folded handkerchief from his pocket. Jenny immediately recognized the emerald fire of Katrina's pendant nestled in the center. "I require this necklace to be repaired."

"Such exquisite workmanship, such authenticity to historical designs!" The goldsmith practically drooled as he reached for the pendant, but was brought up short by a pale hand on his wrist.

The Horseman's scowl cooled some of the jeweler's enthusiasm. Carefully, Abraham drew the broken chain free of the enchanted emerald and handed it to the old man without letting go of the stone.

"Uh, yes," the old man stuttered. "Give me a few moments to look examine the damage."

Silence fell, uncomfortable and thick between the adversaries in the room while the man worked.

"So lovely," cooed the jeweler. "It will take nearly a week to repair the...this looks like the chain was _cut!_ What fool...well, no matter! Would you be interested in selling it? I am prepared to make a handsome offer."

"It is not for sale."

"Oh, I see," the man got a twinkle in his eye as he looked at Jenny. "Is this perhaps…?"

"It's a family heirloom," she provided with a sidelong smirk.

"Of course!"

"Why don't you look around, _Honey_," Jenny nearly laughed at the Horseman's expression.

Annoyed, Abraham turned away and mulled over what Jenny had said. With that in mind, he looked over the store's shelves once more and spied a small glass case tucked toward the back of the shop. He hadn't noticed it earlier, drawn to the more spectacular displays that were fit for royalty. Absently, he moved closer and saw that the case was cluttered with small memorabilia, coins, and medals.

"Ah yes, given your interest in Colonial artifacts," the jeweler said, gesturing to the Horseman's British uniform. "It is only natural that you would gravitate toward my collection! These are all from estate sales and other rare item dealers from across the country. Each piece is a certified antique, most are one of a kind, and all are full of history!"

_Antiques? Most of these trinkets were not made until after I was put in torpor._ Abraham grimaced until something snagged his attention.

"There," he said pointing. "Show me that one, there."

"Truly? Such a simple thing as that?" asked the jeweler, looking slightly crestfallen. "Wouldn't you be more interested in—"

"_That_ is the piece I wish to see."

The Horseman's hard glare was enough to overcome any avarice that the old man may have felt and he quickly produced the silver pendant from the display case.

"Yes, well." The jeweler brought out a polishing cloth and rubbed it across the medal's surface. "As you can see by the date, it is from before the Revolution. Stamped from silver mined locally—"

Abraham tuned out the droning old man and hesitantly reached for the pendant. He relaxed when he suffered no ill effects from touching it, a soft smile curled his lips.

_Something with meaning_, Jenny had said.

Sharply, an almost electric jolt rocked the Horseman and he had to steady himself on the counter.

"Are you alright, sir?"

Abraham shook his head to clear the last of the ringing from his ears. He mentally reached out to the spark of power that clung to Abbie and was relieved to feel her spirit strong and unharmed.

"Sir?"

"Yes...please pardon me, the fit has...passed. I wish to purchase this in addition to paying for the chain repairs."

"Very good, sir," said the old man with a professional smile.

The Horseman shuddered once more, still wondering what had brought on the violent sensation, and turned to find Jenny rewrapping Katrina's pendant in the handkerchief.

Stunned he patted the pocket he had placed the necklace in earlier to find it empty.

Anger surged through Abraham as he stormed over to her side. He snatched back the emerald necklace from the fingers that had stolen it so skillfully. "_That_ is not for _you_, Miss Mills," he growled.

"…Sure, sorry." Jenny seemed distracted. "I should go. Tell Abbie that most of our...uh, _stuff,_ is moved out."

"She will be pleased to hear it."

"Yeah, just...just remember what I said, ok? Anything happens to her, I'm taking it out of your ass."

The Horseman watched as she left the store, keeping a hand on his precious gemstone just to be sure it stayed where it belonged.

* * *

Concern continued to nag at Abraham as he finished his business with the goldsmith and stepped back out into the night air.

The atmosphere didn't feel any different, but he knew it was a lie.

Abraham was fairly certain that Conquest was behind the surge he felt earlier, but what it meant was still a mystery to him. Each of the Horseman had their role to play and Death's was relatively straight forward compared to the others. At the time, Abraham had been too concerned about killing his treacherous best friend and reclaiming Katrina's love to pay attention as Moloch outlined the plans for the Apocalypse.

He was regretting it now; giving Abigail and her companions critical information could help secure their trust in him.

Looking down the alley, Abraham could see Daredevil was irritated and pawing the ground with a sharp hoof, but otherwise unmolested.

He only began to relax once he caught sight of Abigail, still clad in the dress he had chosen. Abraham cut his way through the crowd to her side in time to hear someone call her name.

"Abbs?"

Mills froze and the Horseman instinctively turned to see who had caused her alarm, his hand reaching for his axe.

"Luke," she said tonelessly as the handsome officer trotted up to the pair.

After throwing a wary glance at her blond companion, Morales focused his attention on Abbie. "Dispatch said you were ordered on leave. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. Just need some time off."

"Time off? Are you sick?"

"No."

"Are you sure you're ok? You can talk to me, Abbs," Luke said, lowering his voice. "You can tell me anything. I just want to help."

Annoyance echoed across the spiritual connection and Abraham stepped forward to intervene. "Is there a problem, my dear?" He prayed that there was.

"No. Luke works at the station, with _Reyes,_" she emphasized. "He was just stopping to say 'hello', but he has to leave now."

"Abbie-"

"_Goodbye_, Luke."

Irritation crossed the officer's tanned face as she turned away. "What is it with you?"

"Excuse me?" Abbie's voice was low and dangerous.

"I go out of my way to be nice, and you...I thought we had something special!" Morales motioned to Abraham. "First, Captain Cambridge and now this guy? Where do you find these frea-"

Luke's words were choked off as he was lifted upward, a very angry Horseman holding him by his shirtfront. The officer's customary arrogance was replaced with fear as he scrabbled at Abraham's iron grip.

A sudden flare of bloodlust through her chest took Abbie by surprise, but she forcefully pushed it away. She only allowed herself the small satisfaction of watching Luke strain helplessly to get free. "You should be more respectful," she growled. "I could let him snap your neck, but I think I prefer you alive to see what comes next."

Morales looked faint, his struggles getting weaker as Abraham continued to hold him effortlessly off of the ground.

After a final lingering look, Abbie placed her hand on the Horseman's arm. "It's ok, you can let him go."

"This _reprobate_ dared to insult you."

_He's done much more than that_, she fumed silently. But now was not the time to bring up such a painful memory.

Not with witnesses, anyway...

"Now Luke knows better than to do it again. Killing him here will not help our cause." Abbie squeezed gently to draw his attention. "Please, Bram."

Morales hit the ground hard, his legs unable to support his weight as he lay gasping for breath.

The few festival patrons who had been curious about the altercation drifted on, satisfied that the show was over. Abbie smiled disarmingly at the few remaining onlookers.

She crouched down and said to the injured officer in a low voice: "I'm only going to say this once: I don't need you to be _concerned_ about me. Understand? We can work together because of the job, but other than that..._stay the fuck away from me_."

Luke blinked up at her, still trying to massage the bruises on his neck. "Ab-"

"And if _Reyes_ sent you, tell her: 'This isn't over.'"

The strange blond giant seemed to loom even larger. "Come, Beloved. It is time for us to depart."

"Right. Let's go."

* * *

_**AN:** __Welcome my wonderful readers, new and old! _

_So sorry if this chapter seems short or rushed - everything has been super crazy lately. I've been out of town every weekend for a two month stretch, even went to the Wizard World Comic Con in Philadelphia to meet the beautiful Tom Hiddleston. My schedule should settle by the middle of July, so I can get serious about writing again. This chapter is the last one I had pre-written, so from here out I have to keep laying track as you guys ride the train over my toes. No worries though, WTA still has quite a bit to go!_

_As always, I live on reviews! Thank you all for joining me in Brambie love!_


	17. Chapter 17

**Winner Takes All**

_Spoilers up through Season 3 mid-season finale, ignores the Orion arc._

_**AN:**__ Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)_

_BIG THANK YOU FOR MY VERY PATIENT AND EVER HELPFUL BETA READER KHACHATURIAN LOVER! _

_**Inspiration Soundtrack:**_

_"Earth" - Assassin's Creed 2 - Soundtrack  
__"Pearls and Roses" - Florence and the Machine_

_**Join Team Brambie! See the FaceBook page for story news and fan-art!  
facebook/teambrambie**_

* * *

The rhythmic thump of Daredevil's hooves was nearly swallowed in the dark as they made their way home.

"Everything all right?"

The Horseman blinked, pulling himself from his thoughts. "I beg your pardon, my dear. You were saying something?"

"I asked if everything was all right with you. You've been quieter than usual."

"Quieter? My apologies," he squeezed her waist in reassurance. "I am well. Only..."

"'Only?'"

"That man...he seemed to know you quite well."

"Morales," Abbie grimaced. "We work together."

"I sense there is more to the story than that."

Abraham's suspicion grew as she became restless in his arms. "We...we dated for a while. It was a long time ago. It...it didn't end well."

He tried not to feel the spike of jealousy, but the Horseman was a man of considerable passion. "Did he harm you?"

That she was reluctant to answer made him even more upset. "Once."

"What-"

"I don't want to talk about it," Abbie said sharply. "Ever."

Daredevil stopped at the tug of the reins.

"Abigail-"

She turned in the saddle as much as she could and pinned him with a furious gaze. "I said no. Respect that or you're walking the rest of the way home."

"_I_ will be walking? This is _my_ horse!"

"_Test_ me and find out."

"As you wish, my Lady," he said stiffly, now even more agitated. His mind churned over the possible infractions the swarthy jack-a-nape could have perpetrated. None of them were mild and many had Abraham gripping his ax tighter.

Daredevil began to walk forward again. The steady clop-clop of his steps helped break the tense silence.

"I just...I'm sorry," she said quietly, guilt lacing her tone. "I just want to get home. Tonight was so perfect until Luke showed up, I...I just want to hang onto that a little while longer. I don't want to fight. I don't want to think about anything right now."

Pain lanced through his heart. "Perhaps...if I had not insisted on that last dance we would have been gone before he arrived."

"It's not your fault. Sleepy Hollow is a small town, it's hard to avoid people you know."

"Still, I would have spared you such discomfort had I known he was a threat."

"I never told you about him. Besides, you can't protect me from everything."

He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. "I shall endeavor to try."

"No, see - just _no," _her irritation returned in full force. "Crane tried to keep me safe and coddled, some chivalry thing. I _hate_ that. I can defend my own damned self!"

"Having been at the receiving end of your wrath, I am well aware of that fact," Abraham said quickly. "But...I have lost much in this strange lifetime. I could not bear to lose you as well. I will concede that you are no delicate flower, but, please...will you allow me to be concerned for you?"

Abbie was really beginning to hate that word as it appeared to be truly magical when it came out of Abraham's mouth. A simple 'please' and she was ready to promise him anything.

"Abigail?" Daredevil paused, flicking his ears.

"Get us home," she said quietly.

The pale horse started to move once more.

"Faster."

The walking pace sped up into a canter.

"_Faster_."

Daredevil broke into a trot.

"I need you to get me out of this corset."

"I believe that I can help with that," the Horseman said huskily, kicking his mount into a gallop.

* * *

She didn't want to get up, but she had been in bed most of the day already.

Reluctantly, Abbie crawled out of the warm nest of blankets and nearly yipped at the icy floor on under her toes. _Socks, gotta remember socks._

_Or get a damn rug…_

Goosebumps chased across her dark skin, making her toss a longing glance back at the iron four-poster.

And the golden god still in it.

A smile curled her lips as she grabbed his new coat from where it lay folded across the nearby chair. The scarlet wool was warm and a bit scratchy against her bare skin, drawing a different kind of shiver from her body. The jacket nearly swallowed her petite frame, but she loved how it already smelled like Abraham: fresh earth, horses and very faintly of sulfur.

"I believe that is mine, my Lady." His voice was reproachful, but amusement crinkled the corners of his mouth.

"Oh?" Abbie asked casually. "I don't know, I kinda like it." She did a little spin, making sure to let the coat gape open enough to show how little she was wearing underneath.

Something primal slid through the Horseman's blue eyes, clearing the last of the contented haze that had grown from watching her sleep. The muscles in his shoulders flexed as he sat up.

Abbie turned away before she could lose herself in the lines of his sculpted chest. "Maybe I'll keep it."

"You think so?"

"Yep," she said playfully. "But, I guess if you want it _back_, you'll have to come—" Abbie heard the bed shift as he moved and she bolted for the bedroom door.

The twisted sheets slowed Abraham just long enough for her to make it down the stairs and into the living room. He jumped the last six risers and Abbie had to run across the couch to dodge his sweeping arm. Flushed and giggling, she feinted toward the hallway, but then doubled back to the kitchen.

Abbie made it safe to the far side of the room, leaving the Horseman to stumble to a halt just inside the doorway.

"Something the matter?" she asked sweetly.

Abraham glared at her, frustration evident in the crease of his brow.

The kitchen shutters were open, letting a six foot wide band of sunlight cut the room in half like a blazing wall between them.

"Oh dear!" Abbie said with badly affected dismay. She hopped up to sit on the counter with her legs crossed demurely. "I guess you don't really want the coat after all."

"Abigail," he rasped.

"Mmm, it is so nice, so _warm_," she said. Abbie let the lapels fall open to expose her full breasts, the dark nipples standing pert in the chill air. Her legs spread apart to keep her balance as she leaned backward on the counter.

"You are the Devil to tempt me so, woman," Abraham groaned.

A light sparked in her grin and she started to sing:

_"I used to listen to him, sitting on my shoulder_  
_But he's losing my affection, I've fallen for another_  
_He made me do some bad things, but you make me do the worst_  
_He's been around for centuries, but you were still the first_

Abbie's hand slid down her stomach as she sang, taking time to let the dark fingers play over the cream silk of her panties. Even from across the room Abraham could see the dampness spreading through the cloth.

_"He may have fire and brimstone, all the power in the world_  
_But I'm not trying to impress him now that I'm your girl_  
_He says he wants me back, and I don't know what to do_  
_Cos I don't need the Devil now that I've got you-"_

Abbie squeaked as the Horseman grabbed the edge of the plank kitchen table and lifted it up off of the floor. Using the wood as a shield against the killing sun, he quickly crossed through the shadowed space underneath to catch her before she could escape again. The dropped table banged loudly in the enclosed space as it hit the floor behind him.

Strong hands seized Abbie's waist, keeping her on the counter as she tried to hop down.

"Where do you think you are off to?" he growled in her ear.

She gasped as he dragged her to the edge of the tiled surface, using his hip to wedge her thighs open. His pushed the coat off of her shoulders, exposing her glorious breasts to his heated gaze. The thick wool sleeves twisted and trapped her arms as tightly as if they were ropes, letting him press his advantage.

Abraham leaned over and snatched a knife from the nearby kitchen block.

He paused at her startled intake and looked into her wide brown eyes.

"Do you trust me?"

After a few tense moments, her fear began to subside and she nodded.

"I need to hear you say it, Abigail."

She bit her lip, then nodded again. "I trust you."

The Horseman waited a few extra heartbeats to be sure.

"Do not move," he warned. The sharp blade slipped under the string of her bikini underwear, slicing through the silk as if it were thin air.

A shudder ran through her body as the cold steel cut the other string free, letting the cloth fall away and leave her open to his mercy.

Having served its purpose, Abraham tossed the knife aside. Abbie relaxed and tried to wriggle her hands free from the binding coat.

"I did not say you could move," the Horseman scolded. His right hand grasped her hair tightly and pulled her head back, letting the pain serve as a warning.

Abbie whimpered but stopped fighting.

A dark smile curled Abraham's lip as he held her still a moment longer. He had no doubt that it cost the proud woman dearly to be submissive, but that Abbie trusted him enough to be compliant to this extent was thrilling. "My beautiful Abigail," he whispered lovingly against her throat. "Thievery is a punishable offense, you know this? And there is still the matter of your mulish behavior last night. I believe I promised to have you screaming..."

She trembled. Whether it was from fear or anticipation, neither was sure.

His left hand slid up to her breast, but she remained obediently still as he kneaded her flesh. She bit her lip to stifle a yelp when he pinched her nipple hard, pulling it stiff with his thumb and forefinger. He repeated the motion to her other breast, making sure that he left no inch of flesh untouched.

She sucked in a breath as his hand then moved to her inner thigh. Goose bumps raced over her skin as she felt a calloused finger slide through the damp curls and across her sex. The grip of his right hand still in her hair was just short of painful, but his left was exceedingly gentle as he opened her slick folds like a delicate flower. Abbie moaned as he found the sensitive pearl inside.

He twisted his wrist to let his thumb rest on her clit while he slid a finger inside her trembling entrance. Abraham used the tension in her muscles and pitch of her sighs as a guide to finding what she liked most. He curled his finger upward, letting it stroke across the ridged walls until he found a place that made her whole body quiver.

"Mmm..." she tried to follow his command and stay still, but even the painful grip on her hair was nothing compared to the intensity he was drawing from her body.

He added a second digit and felt her arch into his hand.

She was flushed and panting, but still not complete. A third finger and a circular twist of his thumb earned him a deep moan.

"Is there something you want, my Abigail?" he asked, his own voice rough and nearly unrecognizable.

It took her a moment to process that he was speaking. "I..."

She was getting close, he could feel her muscles starting to tighten.

"Tell me," he purred.

"I...I..."

Abraham deliberately changed his pace, stopping her short of the edge until he got what he wanted.

Her frustrated howl nearly unmade his resolve. "_Tell me_, Abigail. What do you want?"

"I-I want you to fuck me right here!" Her teeth were bared in a snarl. "I want you so deep and hard that I can't think! If you don't, _so help me God, Van Brunt!_ I will fucking shoot you!"

Like an arrow released from a bow, Abraham needed no further coaxing.

The constricting boxers were quickly discarded to fall beside the shreds of her panties and he shuddered as he grasped his engorged erection.

Abbie's fluids on his hand made quick work of sliding the foreskin back but he wanted to draw out the experience as much as possible.

The Horseman leaned forward and rubbed his member up Abbie's folds, letting her juices coat the shaft. She clenched her eyes shut and mewled as the head of his cock brushed across her clit.

Abraham drew himself back down and up twice more, fighting the urge to simply ram himself into the woman until they both shattered.

"Please," she panted in a tiny voice. "_Please_, Bram..."

Their moans blended together as he slowly pressed through her guard. She was as tight as the first time they had joined their bodies, so he forced himself to be patient and allow her to adjust to his size. Abbie was so wet it made it easier for him to withdraw and then sink deeper with each stroke. He built a rhythm, drawing sounds from her body like a conductor at a symphony. The counter height was level with Abraham's waist, letting him rock on his heels to have the straightest path to her center, but he wanted more.

Letting go of her hair, Abraham grasped her waist with both hands and slid her from the counter while she was still impaled on his erection. She gasped and clutched his shoulders, wrapping her legs around his waist to lock her ankles on his back. The Horseman took a few steps and lay her down across the kitchen table.

The sun was still shining through the window but the table had shifted to leave only half of the planks illuminated. Abraham positioned them so that Abbie lay in the warm light while he remained safely in shadow. He grinned as her skin seemed to sparkle with sweat as he dove into her with renewed purpose.

She groaned as the table height let Abraham forge a deeper angle and she arched her back to make the most of it.

The Horseman could feel her start to tighten around him once more. "Abbie..."

Her eyes were unfocused and golden from sunlight as she tried to look at him.

"Scream for me," he whispered, sinking himself to the root with each thrust.

Abbie felt him filling her up, so deep inside that it bordered on painful when he struck her cervix. She felt the orgasm building like a wall of dark water, threatening to drown the world.

"_Scream for me..._"

She whimpered higher and higher with each stoke until she shrieked his name as the wave crashed, sweeping her away in a tide of blinding sensation.

Abraham felt her clench around him with a sudden rush of fluid as she screamed. He pumped into Abbie hard and quick, trying to hold the pace before his own body locked up. He cried out as he held her hips tight to his, shooting his seed into her still quivering womb.

As the world slowly realigned around them, Abbie felt like her limbs had been replaced with string and lead weights. She blinked up at Abraham, smiling at how he looked just as blissfully debauched as she probably did.

She could feel the Horseman still buried deeply within her, but he was gradually softening with each twitch. Abbie kept her legs wrapped around his waist, wanting to hold onto the moment a little longer. She felt whole when they were together, as if he was the other half she never knew she was missing.

Abraham was still fighting to get his own breathing under control, propped up on trembling arms to keep from smothering her with his weight. He smiled, putting his heart into his eyes as he met her gaze. "Do you feel suitably punished, my Lady?" he asked in a rusty voice.

She made a show of thinking about it. "I might need another lesson later."

He scoffed, deliberately reaching down to tweak a nipple and make her writhe. "Some people cannot be rehabilitated," he said dryly.

Abraham moved to step backward, but she still had her legs holding him tight against her. He raised a brow at Abbie's stubborn smirk and then circled one arm around her back, the other under her rear. She giggled as he lifted her up to carry her, still intimately joined.

He ducked under the last of the fading sunlight and headed for the stairs.

"Where are we going?"

"To bathe," he said simply.

"Is that all?" she asked, having noticed he wasn't as soft as he had been before she started bouncing onto him with each step he took.

He paused at the base of the staircase and Abbie felt him _flex_ within her. His eyes were dark with more than the early evening shadows. "That depends on whether or not you behave."

* * *

She had put his coat on once more, but still mourned the loss of his body heat when he settled her on the bathroom vanity.

Abraham gave her a knowing smile as he bent to draw water into the claw-foot tub.

Playfully, Abbie reached out to tickle his bare ass with her toes. She giggled as he halfheartedly batted her away.

"Your bath awaits, my Lady," the Horseman said with an elegant bow.

Knowing how much he would enjoy the view, she took extra time to strip out of his coat slowly.

"Abigail..." the hunger was evident in his voice, even if she hadn't seen his physical reaction.

Something clattered and bounced across the floor.

"Shit-!" Abbie said, reached for the emerald pendant.

"_Stop!_" the Horseman commanded sharply.

"What?" she asked in surprise, poised a few inches from the glittering stone.

"Conquest had possession of the necklace," concern knitted his brow in a frown. "I fear she may have tampered with it."

"And you've been holding onto it?" Abbie snatched her hand back, looking down at the emerald as if it had suddenly turned into a snake. "Has it affected you?"

"No," Abraham said, carefully picking up the pendant and wrapping securely it in the linen cloth once more. "But I am not willing to risk your welfare on a hunch."

She rubbed her palms on the coat, suddenly conscious of how cavalier she had been about things lately. Abraham made her feel safe, and that was making her sloppy. "Thank you."

"Besides," he said, his tone much softer. "I have something else I would prefer you to wear."

"If it's a g-string, you can forget it," she quipped shakily. "I'd much rather go commando."

The Horseman shook his head in puzzlement, but reached into the coat's other pocket for the small velvet pouch.

"What is that?"

"Something with meaning," he said cryptically.

A roughly shaped disk the size of a quarter and its companion silver necklace spilled into her hand. The stamped impression on the medal's face was worn slightly smooth from the passage of countless hands, but she could still read the year "1751". Under the date was the image of a man on horseback driving a spear into the belly of a dragon.

"It's Saint George," she looked up at the Abraham with surprise.

"For my dragon slayer," he said, stroking back a lock of her dark hair.

"1751, isn't that-"

"The year I was born." He chuckled under his breath. "I thought it might have been an omen, that this was perhaps..._meant_ for us."

She smiled, rubbing her thumb over the aged silver.

"Does it please you?" Apprehension flickered faintly across the Horseman's brow.

Abbie leapt up, wrapped her arms around him tightly. "It's perfect," she whispered.

* * *

_**AN:**__ I AM SOOOO SORRY THAT THIS IS LATE! Things have just been super crazy lately and I haven't had time to work on WTA at all. As an apology, this chapter is a little longer than normal. I hope that I can keep the quality up that you all deserve despite the fact that I haven't been able to give this story the time it needs. I really don't want to skip a month, but it may come to that. :(_

_THANK YOU ALL FOR STICKING WITH ME!_


	18. Chapter 18

**Winner Takes All **

_Spoilers up through Season 3 mid-season finale_

_**AN:**__ Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)_

_**Inspiration Soundtrack: **_

_"Eternal Love" - 'Dracula Untold' Soundtrack_

_"Ice Cream - Following Scott" - 'Dexter' Soundtrack_

_"Everyone Likes Oranges" - 'Penny Dreadful' Soundtrack_

_"Pretty Piece Of Flesh" - 'Romeo and Juliet' Soundtrack - One Inch Punch_

_**Join Team Brambie! See the FaceBook page for story news and fan-art!  
facebook/teambrambie**_

* * *

Nothing.

Nothing in this book either. Nothing in the last sixteen and sixty books he looked through.

Nothing that gave him hope that the spell that had ensnared his precious leftenant could be broken.

Ichabod scrubbed his eyes, trying to get the afterimage of yet more Latin text from his vision.

There had to be _something_.

The fruitlessness of his search stretched out before him in an unending line but he refused to give up. Abbie had never failed when Crane had needed her help, he would be damned to the deepest Circles of Hell before he abandoned her.

Mr. Hawley had come and gone with more crates. Most of the Armory and Sheriff Corbin's files had been safely relocated on the first night, but there were still a number of artifacts scattered throughout the Resistance tunnels. Ichabod knew he should have been helping, but his anxiety would not let him give focus to anything beyond his immediate obsession.

_Perhaps there were other texts that had gotten misfiled..._

He chuckled ruefully. If Abbie had been there, she would have no doubt already inspired him to come up with some clever anecdote from his distant past. Some perfect solution that would seem so obvious after its discovery.

Crane fingered the new 'burner' phone in his pocket, wondering for the thousandth time if it was permissible to call. As much as he desired to hear her voice, he wasn't sure if it would serve to be soothing or cause him more distress.

It was fast dawning on him that he truly _needed_ Abigail Mills.

She had always brought out the best in him: drawing upon their unique kinship to birth creative solutions to the most daunting of trials.

But without her...his mind scrambled aimlessly like a toy in a vast ocean of doubt. She had become more than a partner, she was his-

The door to the storage shed screeched as it was wrenched upward, startling him from his whirling thoughts.

Jenny struggled through the opening with another arm-load of boxes, frowning at the knife in the scholar's hand.

"One cannot be too careful," he muttered in apology. "Have you seen your sister?"

"No, I haven't. Not since the last time you asked me. An _hour_ ago."

An annoyed flush burned across Ichabod's cheeks. "I did not realize it had been so soon. I have been known to lose track of time while researching. I thought perhaps..."

Jenny looked exhausted, and rightfully so: she had been working through the night and likely not had much sleep. Crane felt a pang of guilt at the deep shadows under her normally bright eyes.

"Are you well, Miss Jenny?"

"I'm fine, just...tired. A little achy, but nothing some Advil couldn't fix."

"Please, let me make you some tea-"

"No tea. Weeds belong in a mulch-pile, not in a cup."

"'Weeds'," the Englishman scoffed. "A coffee then perhaps?"

"Now _that_, yes." She nodded and collapsed into a desk chair. "I would kill for a coffee about now."

"Be that as it may, it is quite thankfully not necessary this evening," he handed her a chipped mug with a flourish.

"'You should see my other ride'?" Jenny read with a cocked eyebrow.

"Oh," Crane stuttered as he saw Harley Davidson logo on the cup he had provided. "It was a...a bit of humor on Abigail's part. She once let me ride with her on a motorcycle. I was...quite taken with the...vehicle."

"Riiight..."

"Is there something troubling you?" He snapped defensively, nerves already beyond the breaking point.

Jenny's eyes narrowed. "I like you, Crane. I do. But we really should talk. I think maybe you're...well, in denial on some things."

Flooded with apprehension, he dreaded to ask but couldn't leave it alone: "Denial? About what?"

"About Abbie."

"We cannot give up now, all is not lost! We will get your sister back," he reflexively shied away from any other interpretation of her statement. "I need only find the proper text to unravel the spell with which she has been cursed-"

"It's not a spell, Crane."

"Impossible! Abigail would never have-"

"Crane!" Jenny barked, stopping him in his tracks. "It _isn't_ a spell. I've _seen_ them together. _You've_ seen them together."

"She would not be able to fight against the effects of the spell if it were strong enough! She might not even _realize_-"

"Have you even stopped once to think that maybe their feelings are legit?"

"No! They _can't_ be!"

"Why not?"

"Because of this!" he shouted, stabbing his finger at an illustration pinned to the wall.

"What is it?"

"It's a ritual to open the pathway to Hell. One of the Horseman, specifically the _Horseman of Death_, has to connect with a human. Their bond allows the gateways between the spiritual planes to merge and the Damned to enter the Earthly realm!"

"What are you saying?"

"Abraham gave her his _blood_! It is part of the ritual-"

"Wait. You were connected to him by blood too. Are you saying that you could have been a first attempt at opening the Gate?"

"Don't be absurd! I-"

"Crane, this was drawn on a paper towel."

"I had to transcribe it from a text in Prague. I...I could not get close enough to obtain a better copy."

Jenny pinned him with a skeptical glance. "And you're basing your theory on a napkin with a drawing from a book you couldn't read?"

"Regrettably, the security at the museum was much more than I was able to surmount on my own."

"I see. So...other than this ritual story...it is possible-"

"It is not!"

"Again: _why_?"

"Because...because if they _were_, then...then..."

Jenny watched him collapse onto his chair, looking at his hands.

"It would mean...I was too late..." His voice was small, like a child realizing the monsters under the bed were real.

"I'm sorry, Crane," she said sympathetically. "But it just might be. I would not have believed it myself, but I know what I've seen."

"If...if I had perhaps been...do you think, she could have ever...?"

He looked so broken, it made Jenny's heart clench. "Maybe. But we don't get to choose who we love."

The scholar didn't reply, just folded deeper into himself. After a few moments, Jenny heaved a sigh and dragged herself to her feet.

"We have to stay focused. Pestilence is out there, and maybe the other Horsemen too."

"You are...right, of course," he said mechanically.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No, thank you Miss Jenny. I believe I will...begin organizing this...this new archive." Crane lifted his head, but his eyes were unseeing. "The quiet will...it will do me some good, I think."

The younger Mills sister studied him a moment longer and then nodded. "Call me if you need anything."

"I will."

Silence fell once more after Jenny left, and Ichabod let it wrap around him like a smothering blanket. The turmoil of his mind had ground to a halt from their discussion, leaving him feeling aimless.

Had he taken it as a matter of fact that Abigail would always be there for him? He had wanted to pay respects to Katrina and their marriage vows, delaying any pursuit of a new relationship until it was appropriate. But...was it really too late?

Crane felt his heart crack in his chest, driving the breath from his lungs.

_No..._

_No, I will not give up. Not now, not even if it takes an _eternity_!_

Jumping to his feet, Ichabod went back to the bookshelf and then paused.

_Wait_...perhaps he was going about this all wrong? Perhaps the simplest solution was the best?

Crane didn't need a spell or incantation, some mystical dance.

He needed a bargaining chip.

He needed something with which to trade that the Horseman wanted more than Abigail...

With renewed vigor, he stumbled slightly from cramped muscles as he headed for the door.

* * *

Snow had finally come, cloaking everything in soft fluff and silence.

Confused, Abbie looked back and forth but couldn't recognize her surroundings. Had she wandered from Abraham's home during the night? Sleepwalking was not unheard of: she had once ended up in the garden shed of her neighbor's house after a particularly stressful case.

This felt different though...

Chewing her lip, Mills looked down to see if her tracks could give her a direction in which to start.

The wandering trail left by her boots were paired with another set of prints.

_Hoof_prints.

A surge of relief filled her chest. If Abraham was here, he could get her home safely. The Horseman's name was on her tongue but at the last instant, she held back. Experience had taught her that yelling out was as likely to bring danger as it could allies.

The prints in the snow lead deeper into the forest, following a timber road that had gone ragged with disuse. Without a better plan in evidence, Abbie set out to follow the horse's trail.

"If this is some kind of joke or scavenger hunt, I'm going to kick your ass 'Bram," she muttered under her breath. "Whatever it is, the prize at the end better include a full pot of hot mocha'chino..."

The trees loomed over head, like black fingers that choked out the light into an ambient gloom. She shuddered, though not from the cold.

Abbie stopped.

She _wasn't_ cold.

Calf-deep in white drifts worthy of a Hallmark Christmas card and she wasn't even shivering.

"What the hell is going on here?"

She felt her face and hands, each as warm as they would have been if she were sitting at home.

"This isn't real?" Her chocolate eyes glanced around furtively, looking for any clues or signs of magic.

The forest remained silent, with the hoof prints threading deeper into the wood.

Abbie had just made the decision to yell out when she heard a quiet sob come from farther up the path.

_This is like the plot of every horror movie_, she thought grimly. _'Idiot woman follows mysterious crying and then meets an axe-murderer.'_

_Well...I guess I'm technically _sleeping_ with an axe-murderer, so maybe I shouldn't throw stones..._

"Hello?"

The crying continued unabated.

After several more moments of indecision, Abbie grabbed a sturdy branch from one of the nearby trees and proceeded cautiously down the path to investigate.

Shadows loomed longer across the ground, crossing the white snowy crust like spidery fingers reaching out for her boots.

_Not a helpful image_, she thought to herself. The back of her shoulders itched with the feeling of unseen eyes.

The crying was louder now, and even the forest appeared to be thinning slightly. As Abbie continued, the path opened up to a clearing with a small pond in the center. The water was like a polished black mirror, with no ripples or disturbances to blemish the surface.

Unease trickled along her spine. Naturally occurring or not, mirrors were often used as powerful magical objects or even portals. A memory of Moloch's horrific visage in the cracked jail mirror flashed behind Abbie's eyes.

_Please, please, please don't let it be that again..._

The miserable wailing was coming from a huddled form at the edge of the pond, a woman rocking back and forth with obvious distress.

_Soooo horror movie...I need to stop eating junk food so late at night._

Chewing her lip, Abbie called out: "Hey..."

The woman didn't respond.

"Hey! Are...are you all right?" She winced at the absurdity of her question.

_Wait...wait, I know-_

"Jenny?" Disregarding her earlier concern, Abbie began to stumble through the drifts toward her sister. "Jenny! What's wrong?"

Closer, the sobbing had resolved into broken words: "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..."

"Jenny, sweetheart! Look at me! Please!"

There was a blur of movement and Abbie suddenly felt cold seeping into her chest.

She looked down in confusion at the hilt of a broad sword protruding from her ribs, having no idea of how it got there.

"I'm so sorry Abs..."

* * *

_"Abigail!"_

Abraham stared down at her, concern filling his blue eyes.

Throat still raw from screaming, Abbie panted for breath as she tried to orient herself. "Bram?"

"You were having another nightmare. You called out for your sister."

"I..."

"You are safe now, my heart. Whatever dream fears you may have had are merely shadows and dust."

_Are they?_

"I need...Bram, I need to call..."

"Yes, I quite imagine you would. The..._device_...is by the wardrobe."

"Thank you," Abbie said, shakily.

"Do you wish for a drink?"

"Something stronger than water, please."

His smile was guarded, but he left the room without further comment.

The phone rang six times before a groggy voice mumbled tersely: "Something better be on fire."

"Jenny?"

"Abs?"

Abbie shuddered in a mixture of relief and trepidation. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah. Why?" The younger Mills seemed to wake up at the concern in her sister's tone. "Are _you_ ok? Something wrong?"

"I just...just had a bad dream is all."

The Horseman was returning up the stairs, the risers creaking under his weight.

"Just a bad dream? Abbie, you know that isn't how things work with us."

"I know...I just...You would tell me if you were in trouble, wouldn't you?"

There was a pause at the other end of the line. "Of course."

"Jenny?"

She sighed before replying: "Of course I would, Abbie. You've got a lot on your plate, but we're in this together."

A male voice rumbled in the background.

"Jenny? Is that-"

"That's-that's just the TV!"

"TV, at this time of night?" Abbie chuckled, the last of her concerns bleeding away. "Well, tell the '_Infomercial_' I said 'hello'."

Jenny groaned. "Good night, Abs. I'll meet with you at the caf' later to do the last transfer."

"Ok, good night...I...I love you, Jenny."

Startled silence came through the connection and then a hesitant answer. "Love you too, Abs."

Abraham was waiting patiently with a tumbler of scotch. "Is your sister well?"

"Yes," Abbie replied, taking the glass from his outstretched hand. "Thank you. You are an angel, you know that?"

His burst of laughter took her off-guard. When she realized what she had said, she blushed. "You know what I mean."

"I may ask for confirmation later, but I will take you at your word for the moment, my Lady."

"'My lady'..." She chewed her lip as she contemplated the amber liquid in her glass. "I've been meaning to ask you something. Now that all of the excitement is over and the dust has settled, I can't really put it off any more."

Relatively sure that no pleasant conversation started out with such a ominous beginning, Abraham braced himself.

"Why didn't you tell me about Reyes?"

He dropped his gaze and took time to formulate an answer. "At the time, her affairs did not interfere with my own. There seemed no need."

"No _need_? She's an enemy Horseman and you knew that we worked together but you still didn't say anything?"

"Conquest seeks corruption and the suffering of human kind on a grand scale. As I said, her schemes did not interfere with my goals of killing Ichabod and reclaiming Katrina's affections."

Abbie's heart stuttered to a stop in her chest. _I will not cry, I will _not_ cry,_ she screamed in her mind, trying to ignore the howling beast in her gut. Jealousy of a dead woman was pointless.

"Is that all?"

"It was...but, as you know," Abraham gave her a long look, "my motivations have since…changed."

"I can imagine, especially since Katrina is dead now."

She was being cruel on purpose, but Abbie still felt a twinge of guilt at the brief flicker of pain in his eyes.

The Horseman opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to change his mind about what to say. "Is there anything else you wish to know?"

His icy tone made her want to stop, to apologize, but there were questions that had to be asked if they were going to continue. Secrets could be deadly.

"You never told me something else: what was the gift she wanted to give you?"

A muscle twitched in his jaw as he looked away.

Abbie thought he wasn't going to answer and was about to ask again when his voice came out as a hoarse whisper: "_You_."

"Me?" she blinked. "How does nearly killing me work out to be a gift?"

He looked increasingly uncomfortable. "Conquest..._gambled_ that my affection for you would prevent me from allowing you to die. To save you, I would need to..."

"To what?"

"To _bond_ with you. Our souls are intertwined now, as I once was with Ichabod."

"Oh, right, when you gave me your blood," she said dismissively. "I know that already. I mean, how else would I be able to see and talk to you?"

"It is...it is more than that," Abraham's hands curled and uncurled at his sides. "The bond...has _other_ aspects."

Dread pooled in her belly. "Such as?"

"It...it allows me to sense where you are, to sense what you are feeling. I believe that it works in the reverse as well."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you not felt...something that you could not explain? Anger? Hate?"

The frightened face of Luke flashed through her mind. "...Yes."

"You were feeling _my_ emotions. Just as I felt your _fear_, when we were dancing."

"So...the bond is like...telepathy?"

"No, I cannot hear your thoughts. But, perhaps, if we worked to strengthen the connection, we could. It would be a valuable advantage if we were separated once more."

Abbie squirmed unconsciously. Having the Horseman as a bedmate was one thing, having him in her head was another...

"I'll think about it."

He seemed about to say more but changed his mind.

"Is...is there something else?"

Deep blue eyes searched hers, but instead of answering he said: "May I ask a question of my own?"

Ignoring the obvious joke, though she desperately wanted the levity, Abbie nodded. "That seems fair."

The Horseman reached out and tenderly brushed away some of the hair from her face. "Will...will you..."

She feared her knees were going to give out, she had thought she was _prepared_. She _knew_ Abraham would make an official proposal at some point, but knowing and it actually happening were two different things entirely.

_What should I say? He is a _monster, but she had to admit that she didn't really believe that anymore. _He was a man, and once you got through the prickly arrogance and ancient grudges, he was an _honorable_ man. He treats me well, he tied his life to mine to _save_ me. Doesn't that show he is more than just a tortured soul trapped in a supernatural war?_

_What if I said yes? What would happen after the Apocalypse was averted? Would he stay with me? Would he die or fade away? _

Tears sparked in her chocolate eyes.

_Could I handle losing him?_

"Will you tell me where my head is?"

The world screeched to a stop.

"What?"

"My head. Will you return it to me?"

* * *

"Seriously?"

"Fuck you, I was hungry."

"You're always hungry, that's a non-starter."

"Well, unless I order delivery, this is the best of what I can get."

"Maybe I should let you out more. If you got some exercise-"

"Have you seen this body? It isn't _designed_ for exercise. Unless you're talking _'eggs are sides'_ and then I'm all for it. With extra bacon of course."

"Bacon _is_ tasty, I'll give you that."

"Damn, now I want a BLT...but hold the veggies."

"So you want a bacon sandwich?"

"Fuck the bread too, just the bacon. With a side of bacon. And some maple syrup..."

"No sugar. You are a pain in the ass enough to deal with sober, I don't need you buzzed."

"I'm already _buzzed_."

"I don't think that's what they call it..."

"Whatever."

"You sure you don't want to go outside?"

"What for? I can do everything I want right here."

"Except your _job_."

"Fuck you, I'm doing half _your_ job for you."

"You-? _Fine_. But you can't stay in there forever."

"No, but I'm going to sit here as long as I can. I've got Cheetos!"

"You're disgusting."

"Right back at ya, sister."

"Well, _Princess_. Have fun in your little castle."

"You're funny. Keep that up and I'll redirect your shit to the middle of Africa."

"How funny will you think I am if I close down this cell block?"

"...You're a bitch, you know that?"

"Just keep working, I'll send another citizen deputy down to check on you later."

"Send a fatter one this time, the legs on the last one were all bone and stringy meat. Bet she was some fucking vegan nutjob."

"You make stuff happen like you promised, and I'll look for one who sweats doughnuts, just for you."

* * *

_**AN:**__ Yes, yes, some serious angst going this chapter! Not a lot going on, but some setup for later and some...clarity for a few characters..._

_I apologize again for how late this chapter is, but things have been so crazy. Normally I don't go nuts with stuff until closer to Halloween, but this year it has been non-stop. _

_I was super grateful that I was able to spend time at DragonCon instead of a hotel at home because the hurricane knocked all the power out. It was a lot of fun and I got to meet Tom 'Ichabod Crane' Mison himself, :D - if you couldn't have guessed, he's cuter in person. I showed him my 'Team Brambie' shirt I made and explained what it meant. He laughed and said he hadn't heard of this 'ship before but thought it sounded interesting. He asked where it was posted and seemed to know already. Sadly, I totally blanked (too excited) and forgot to tell him that I had actually gotten Neil Jackson's input on this story as well. I wish the Horseman himself had been there too - but I probably would have keeled over._

_I live on reviews, yay! Thank you all making this 'ship so awesome!_


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